Autumn Coffee
by Kiarene
Summary: AU. A chance meeting between Wufei and Quatre five years after the war sets into motion a series of events. 13x5, 3x4?.
1. Autumn Coffee

**Title:** Autumn Coffee  
**Author: **Kiarene  
**Pairings:** 5x13, 1x2, 3x4  
**Rating: **G  
**Summary: **A chance meeting between Wufei and Quatre five after the war. AU.

**Published: **26th June 2004  
**Disclaimer:** You know the drill.

**Author's notes:** This was the first GW fic I wrote, quite a few moons ago. Wasn't too satisfied with it and so didn't post it till now. Tell me what you think. shrugs

**Autumn Coffee**   
  
"Wufei?"

The Chinese man stopped, and then turned around slowly. Pedestrians parted around him, a few rolling their eyes in exasperation. "…Win… Quatre?"

I gave a shaky smile and walked towards him hesistantly, not sure if I would be welcomed. It's been five years since I last saw him and we had not parted on good terms. "It's good to see you, Wufei. I'd never thought I'll run into you here, in Paris of all places."

Wufei had a small but genuine smile on his face, and he moved to the side of the street. I felt heartened; he was going to stay and talk to me. "It's good to see you too, Quatre. I should be saying that instead — I'm based in the Preventers' office here."

"So. That's where you've been staying. You're looking very well." I eyed him interestedly. He was casually dressed in a red shirt and navy jeans, a nice change from the white outfits he used to wear during te war. Oh, they were well-cut and beautiful, but I knew that white and black were mourning colors. However, Wufei still showed his preference for traditional fashions, and the mandarin collar and asymmetric line of tiny frog buttons gave an unusual look to an otherwise plain shirt.

I've not seen him for almost five years since the war ended and he had changed quite a lot. After Trowa, he had been the tallest amongst us and was well-built from his martial arts training. Now, he was a tall, lithe man that moved with an assured, feline grace, lean muscles filling out his top and worn jeans very nicely. He had let his hair grow and silky black hair hung down to mid-back in a loose braid. In a city of Europeans, his dark coloration and exotic looks garnered quite a lot of admiring looks.

"Are you busy now?"

When he shook his head, I asked again, "Do you want to have a drink? Catch up?"

"Sure," his smile became warm. "I know a nice café just around the corner."

"Sure," I echoed happily as I followed him.

Luckily, the café was relatively empty and we were able to get a table outdoors. It was autumn in Paris and the weather was still good. After we ordered, there was a period of awkward silence. "I wasn't sure if you would want to talk to me," I admitted ruefully, deciding that there was no need for circuitous small-talk. "We've been nothing but bastards towards you."

At that, Wufei averted his eyes, looking down at the menu he held in his hands sadly. "They were but you weren't."

"But I…"

"They shunned me, did …malicious things," Wufei hesistated and I cringed. I knew very well what they did. "But you didn't do any of that."

"But I didn't help you either."

"It's all right. I understand," Wufei said softly. "Thank you anyway."

I stared at him miserably. Why was he thanking me? We treated him horribly. When we had found out about him and Trieze Khushrenada, we were furious.

Heero and Trowa were ready to 'execute him for treason', if we had not needed his skills in the war. They had beaten him up, while I hid like a coward in my room because I couldn't bear to see it, and forbade him to see his lover, convinced he was passing along military secrets to the Oz general. I had understood that reasoning.

What appalled me, however, was how they treated him after that, even though there was no way he could possibly betray us with the restriction they had forced on him — they had even gone as far as locking him in his room at night and confiscating his laptop. They had continued to beat him up, sometimes for no apparent reason. Among the five of us, Wufei had no equal in hand-to-hand combat, except for maybe Heero, but he didn't stand a chance against two Gundam pilots together.

They had destroyed his belongings, ripped apart his precious books and photos, and that had been worse than the beatings. His sorrow when he came back from a mission one night tore me apart and that was the night I first tried to speak up. All I got was a black eye and sore cheek when Trowa backhanded me, accusing me of siding with the 'traitor'.

Duo and I felt betrayed, Duo more so than me. While once he was Wufei's closest friend among us, he shunned Wufei completely. I think that had hurt Wufei more than anything else.

We had jeered at him, saying that there was no way the Oz general could love him. That Khushrenada was just using him, if not to pump him for secrets then just for sex. Wufei had been horribly hurt and embarassed but throughout it all, he adamantly stood by his lover and refused to break it off.

Then, I had wondered how Wufei could fight as a Gundam pilot against Oz, and yet love Khushrenada. Now, older and hopefully wiser, I realized that the war was not that simple. That once caught up in the ugly machinery of war, no one, not even the heads of Oz,

"Do you know how grateful I was when you came to talk to me after …it all started?" Wufei looked up, intense eyes pinning me. "I still remember; it was raining and Yuy and Barton had gone out to town to buy groceries. Maxwell was in his room — I could hear his loud music — and I was feeling really sorry for myself in my room. Then you came in with cookies and talked to me…"

"It was nothing. I didn't say much… and I ran away as soon as I heard the car pull up in the driveway." Now it was my turn to avert my eyes. Allah! I was such a coward. I was a Gundam pilot and I was too cowardly to stand up for something I knew was wrong.

"Quatre." He reached across the table and laid a warm hand over mine. "No, it was not nothing. I was so miserable and you were the only one who talked to me. Who bandaged me up when I got hurt during missions."

"I wish I had done more." I turned my palm up, clasping his hand between mine.

"I'm sorry if I had ever scorned you for being soft and weak. Doing what you did, even if it was behind their backs, took a great deal of courage," he trailed off uncertainly, "and I know what Trowa did to you when you tried to speak up for me."

"It was nothing. I'm a Gundam pilot; it was no big deal." I said, aiming for flippant but he knew I fell short. At this point, the waiter came back with our coffee and I was grateful. I spooned sugar liberally into my Turkish coffee; Wufei still likes his coffee with just a hint of sugar and cream.

"How you can drink that, I don't know." Wufei eyed my cup suspiciously as he stirred his. "I swear it looks toxic."

I gave a beautific smile and brought the tiny cup up to inhale the fragrant steam.

"It probably corrodes your liver and stomach," he told me solemnly.

"This is real coffee," I insisted and we laughed.

"Are you still together? Are Heero and Duo?" Wufei asked curiously. His look became ashamed. "I know it would relatively simple to look that up, especially you since you're often in the news as the head of Winner Enterprise…"

"I understand." I took a sip of my coffee. "Yes we are, but we don't live together. Trowa shuttles between the circus and my estates. I'm not sure about Heero and Duo's arrangement, but I do know that Duo's on L2 with his scrapyard, and Heero still works as Relena's security head on Earth. What about you and Trieze?"

I knew that after Wufei had defeated Trieze in battle that last day and spared his life, as Trieze did for Wufei at their first duel, Oz had surrendered. Trieze had been sent into limited exile in exchange for his freedom, for he was still well-respected by many. He could reside in countries that allowed him in and in return, he was never to take up another military or politcal position. Wufei had refused to break off with the Oz general during the war and Trieze waited for him, even though they could not contact each other for months.

I had cried a bit for them — happy, touched tears as I sat in Sandrock — when I saw them together on the field after the final battle. None of us had tried to contact Wufei after he had left with Trieze. The others refused to associate with the 'traitor', even after it had been clear that Wufei hadn't told the Oz general anything, and I didn't dare.

Wufei smiled happily, cradling his cup of coffee. "Oh, we're both living here now. Trieze has a town-house in Paris and like I said earlier, I'm based in the Preventer's french headquarters."

"Life is good, despite the limited exile?" I asked cautiously.

"Oh, very good." Wufei nodded with a pleased flush, practically glowing. "Even countries that do not allow him to stay; some do allow us to travel through for holidays and that's fine enough for us. We have been on a lot of holidays."

Looking at his contented expression, I felt envious. I could feel his love for Trieze and it was a warm, beautiful emotion that choked me. "That's wonderful, Wufei. Does Trieze treats you right?"

"Yes, yes he does," Wufei said, eyes going dreamy. "He's a writer now and much more at peace than he was during the war. My poor Trieze, he's really a pacifist."

"I know," I grinned. Trieze was a prolific writer on a wide variety of topics, from history and philosophy to short plays. "I've read all his books, even the romance books he tried to hide behind a pseudonym."

Wufei snickered and I continued slyly. "Those were really racy. Any chance they were drawn from experience?"

Wufei waved his hands wildly, his cheeks pink with embarassment. "No!"

"Yes!" I teased him back. "Lucky you. Judging from those novels, Trieze seems to be really romantic. Does he really woo you with flowers all over the bedroom, like in those books? And the duelling scenes! I've noticed he likes those, even those he alternates the scenes with different weapons. Was that what really happened during your 'duels' with him?"

Wufei was blushing so madly he couldn't answer and we dissolved into laughter. Finally, I took pity and patted his hand. "All right, I'll stop now. I just really happy for you. Trowa would never buy a flower for me; it's too effeminate for him."

A bit of my wistfulness must have shown in my tone because Wufei asked, his expression solemn, "Does Trowa treat you right?"

"…Yes."

Wufei noticed my momentary hesitation and frowned. "Does he still beat you?"

I could not lie.

Wufei's scowl became fierce. "You should not take this abuse from him. It is not right."

"Trowa loves me…"

"All the more he should not hit you!" Indignant fire flashed in his eyes and I was reminded again of how when we first met him. He kept ranting about justice and we all thought it funny. Now, it wasn't so funny in the light of all the atrocities that we had seen during the war, that we had committed.

What could I say? I gave a weak smile. "It's not so bad; he's not really abusive."

Wufei gave a disbelieving snort. "Quatre, I am not blind or deaf. I was shunned but I still could tell what was going on. The way Trowa and Heero treated Duo and you back then was unforgivable! Don't tell me he still treats you the same way."

The bruises on my arms, hidden by my long-sleeved business jacket, throbbed. "Trowa and Heero both had terrible childhoods. Trowa grew up with mercenaries and this gruff treatment seems normal to him. And you know how Heero grew up; he just doesn't know how to show emotions, much less affection. I mean, Trowa doesn't really mean it. He does love me you know, and he's better now."

That last statement had been an outright lie and I dropped my eyes guiltily. If anything, it's worse now. Trowa's horribly jealous and insecure of my privileged background. I'm the CEO of a major conglomerate on Earth and he freelances as a mercenary. He still works at the circus with Catherine as well. Once, I'd forgot about his pride and foolishly tried to offer him a job as head of my security and he had been so angry.

Sometimes I thought about breaking it off when I couldn't take it anymore, and then I remembered the good times. Trowa was sweet at times, and it's those times that sustained my hope that we can work it out.

"Quatre, look at me," Wufei said gently, earnestly. "I won't push you now, but just know that I do consider you a friend. A dear friend. And you can always ask me for help, for anything."

I gave a tremulous smile. "Thank you."

At this point, his cellphone rang. Excusing himself, he flipped up the cover and I turned away politely until his call was done.

"Oh, I've got to go soon. That was Trieze and he's just down the street," Wufei explained as he pocketed his phone. "I had finished early at work and was waiting for him while he did some research at the library."

I glanced at my watch in surprise. "What kind of Preventer job allows you to knock off at two in the afternoon?"

"I'm a consultant. I get paid to be bossy and the real Preventers can't wait to see me out of their office." Wufei winked as he finished his coffee and laughed wryly. "Seriously though, I would rather spend time with Trieze so I told Une I refused to take any desk-bound jobs."

To my delight, I saw Wufei's said lover sneaking up behind him as Wufei explained to me his work at the Preventers. The ginger-haired man winked and placed a finger on his lips, and I obediently kept quiet.

When Trieze reached Wufei, he covered the Chinese man's eyes with his hands and Wufei actually toppled backwards with a cut-off yelp. Snickering, Trieze caught Wufei easily and swung him around for a breathtaking kiss.

"Some security consultant — you shriek like a woman!" Trieze teased. Wufei spluttered, blushed and then started laughing helplessly, playfully hitting his smirking lover.

I was entranced by their loving, easy relationship. Wufei was never like this during the war and I was glad to see that he had lost the righteous anger and tragic sorrow he always seemed to carry with him.

And Trieze. I didn't know the ex-Oz general at all, aside from vid-pics, but he looked better now, more relaxed. He was dressed in a blue sweater that matched his eyes and worn jeans, a far cry from his crisp military attire. Reddish brown hair curled messily around his collar, giving him a bit of a bohemian look. Where was the formal, hard-eyed general?

Yet, I can still see evidence of his training in the efficient, silent movements. He didn't so much as sneak up behind Wufei as he slid. I'm sure Wufei hadn't lost his edge, nor had Trieze.

I stifled a delighted laugh. And surely military generals do not surprise their lovers with a crimson rose as if it was a common occurrence? Wufei calmly acccepted the flower with a kiss, earning sighs from the women at the table next to ours.

"Keep in touch, Quatre. I'm really glad we had this chance to meet." Wufei then surprised me yet again by hugging me and I embraced him back tightly. He had always been reserved, even when we first met. It was how he had been raised.

"Me too." I smiled, thinking that yes, I would like very much to catch up with Wufei again. Looking him up wasn't a problem, only that I'd never bothered to before. "Go on. This will be my treat; it's just a cup of coffee."

Watching them leave, hands twined together, I was struck by the irony. We had belittled their love and tried to separate them, yet theirs is a purer love than what we have. We had been so convinced that Trieze was playing him for a fool, arrogantly judging and condeming them without trial or evidence.

More the fools, us.

I continued staring, long after the couple had turned around the corner, musing.

A light summer breeze eddied, carrying the sweet scent of the varied blossoms of Paris. I left a bill on the table, enough for a generous tip as well, and walked out, a smile on my face. Something I hadn't realize I had not been doing lately.

I think I will look up Duo.

End

****

********


	2. Street Kisses

**Title:** Street Kisses  
**Author: **Kiarene  
**Pairings:** 5x13, 1x2, 3x4  
**Rating**G  
**Summary: **Some 5x13 fluff. Set after Autumn Coffee. AU.

**Published: **18th October 2004  
**Disclaimer:** You know the drill.

**Street Kisses**

"So. What did you and Winner talked about?" Trieze frowned. "He didn't come to hurt you, did he?"

When Trieze found out how the other pilots had treated Wufei during the war, he had been overcome with mindless rage and guilt. Even though Wufei had downplayed their actions, Trieze was adept enough at reading his dragon to know that they had hurt him badly. But Wufei made him promise that he would never to seek them out. "That's all in the past. There's nothing to avenge and revenge is pointless," Wufei had pleaded, and he could never deny his love anything.

He had been aghast when he recognized the blond man that was sitting opposite Wufei in the café, but remembering what Wufei told him about Quatre, he swallowed his anger and composed himself.

"Nothing much. I just happened to run into him and he asked if we could perhaps talk over a drink. Catch up and all that." Wufei gave a sad smile. "Of all of the pilots, I think I do miss Quatre. And Duo. They were good friends before… And Quatre remained one even after… that…"

It was at the tip of Trieze's tongue to say something scathing about so-called friends who did nothing, but he held his peace. Wufei gave him a sharp look. "Quatre is not a coward. He's a pacifist by nature and it was hard for him to defy Trowa."

"If you say so," Trieze replied flatly.

As they walked back to their apartment, for it wasn't far and it was a lovely day, Wufei spoke about their conversation.

"Stop that." Wufei abruptly swatted at his husband's straying hand irritably. "We're in public."

"So?" Trieze leered, ignoring Wufei's warning glares and snaked an arm around his lover's trim waist. "I don't care and why should you?"

"It's not proper!" Wufei's objection wasn't that vehement, Trieze noted gleefully. The arm stayed.

This was one of their frequent bones of contention, and slowly but surely, he's wearing his dragon down. Actually, he suspected that Wufei's apparent prudishness stemmed not so much from his conservative background, but rather the abuse he received from the other Gundam pilots when they discovered their relationship. Yet another thing that pilots 01 and 03 have to answer for.

As they walked down the street together, Treize couldn't help but notice the openly admiring looks and lewd leers his beautiful but oblivious husband was receiving. It was a source both of pride and irritation, and part of his exhibitionistic behavior stemmed from a desire to tell, no announce to the world that Wufei was his. It was terribly cave-man of him, even a bit childish, he knew.

He knew he himself was good-looking, but his deep-set eyes and strong features — his dragon called them chiseled — and red-brown hair were common among Europeans, while Wufei's exotic dark looks never failed to draw stares. Perhaps if they were to move to an Asian city…

Trieze mentally shook his head. It was more than enough that France allowed them to stay; not many countries were so forgiving of his part in the war. A bonus — the scenery was gorgeous and he was familiar enough with the language and customs to feel at home.

"What are you thinking about?" Wufei asked him curiously. "You went all quiet suddenly."

"Just wondering what it would be like if we lived in an Asian city, such as China or Hong Kong," Trieze murmured. "But that's not possible."

"You are bored here?" Wufei teased.

"I was thinking that you might be bored here," Trieze replied softly. "Don't you miss Chinese food, or at least well-cooked Chinese food as you keep complaining? Your customs and—"

"Stop." Wufei laid a finger across Trieze's lips. "I don't care about all that. What matters is that I'm with you."

Trieze didn't care that they were right in the middle of the street; he didn't care that Wufei might get angry later. He stopped, and right there and there, in the middle of the street, he gave his husband a deep kiss. The kind where the world just seems to spin to a stop around them for a timeless moment, the kind where everything just narrows down to just them and the delicious play of hot mouths and soft lips and slick tongues…

The kind that drew catcalls.

"Trieze—?" Wufei asked breathlessly. A delicate flush stained his cheeks and some tendrils had escaped his braid, giving him a wonderfully tousled look. Straightening, he attempted to glare at the youths who were whistling shrilly at them, but when he had turned towards them, their admiring sounds only became louder.

Trieze laughed haplessly and pulled a fuming Wufei along.

"Trieze! What was that for?" Wufei tugged his hand out from his husband's grip. Reaching up, he tried to tuck the stray hair back behind his ears, though a few stubborn strands kept flying about.

"And I love you too," Trieze said gaily. He knew he had the silliest grin, but that was all right. He was alive, the war was over and he had his beautiful dragon who loved him by his side. Life was most excellent.

****


	3. Painted Crates

**Title:** Painted Crates

**Author**: Kiarene  
**Pairings:** 5x13, 1x2, 3x4  
**Rating** G  
**Summary:** Quatre pays Duo a visit. Set after Autumn Coffee. AU.

**Published:** 21st November 2004  
**Disclaimer**: You know the drill.

**Painted Crates**

I looked at the unit number again, just to check that yes, this was Duo's apartment. I pressed the doorbell and it… clanked. Flatly. Like a huge rusty bell that had something broken off.

Hm, yes. Definitely Duo's apartment. He always had a quirky sense of humor.

While waiting, I glanced idly around me. L2 was Duo's sort of place, a dizzying juxtaposition of pre-war buildings and new, chipping concrete and gleaming glass. Air-cars zoomed overhead and the train — the Mass Transport Device, they call it — rumbled past. At first glance, L2 looked dingy and smelled overripe. Electrical wires were exposed and taped to the sides of buildings; machinery was old and occasionally patched together with a shiny new replacement and neon tape; everything looked hacked together.

But underneath the pollution-stained façade and graffiti, there was a vibrant heartbeat. The colony throbbed with barely contained energy, like a kid high on sugar before Christmas. Movement, every action, was rapid, frenzied even, and there always seem something going on — people talking, laughing arguing, a clatter of plates from the neighbor unit, a cat yowling. Techno music, if one can call that music, acid, blues, trance; all provided the background cacophony to L2.

I'd only been here for an hour and already I feel that my senses have overloaded. After a while, I press the doorbell again. And again. I found the unique doorbell cute.

"Hold ya horses…" I heard some grumbling, and then silence. I smiled sweetly into the peephole.

There were the sounds of some deadbolts sliding back and then the whine of a field winding down. When the electronic lock beeped, I raised my brows in surprise.

"So paranoid?" I teased when the large door finally swung open; I noted that it was solid metal. The kind you would get for a bomb shelter.

"Eh, once a Gundam pilot…." Duo gave me a brilliant grin. "And this is L2. 'nuff said."

"Ah." I dipped my head in greeting. "Hello, Duo."

"Why so formal, Quat?" I gasped as I was caught up in a crushing hug. For a small-sized guy, he was certainly strong. Smirking, for I was almost a head taller than him, I squeezed him back.

"Quat! Ah! I give up… Uncle!!"

"No, it's ….Who's your daddy," I growled playfully, squeezing harder and bouncing him a bit.

"Ooo… never knew oof.. you were into such games…."

We finally released each other, laughing helplessly. Duo wiped his eyes. "Gods Quat, it's good to see you again. You're looking good."

I studied Duo. "You, too."

A blatant lie, from him and from me. Duo looked thin, weary. There was a fading bruise on one cheek. He hadn't changed all that much since the war; he wasn't much taller and he still wore the black priest-like outfit he favored. His long hair was still done up in a fat plait, a gorgeous tumble of gold and cinnamon silk that was distinctively Duo. But old eyes belied that still impish face, and his smile was a little too forced, a little too tight.

"No, actually, you don't look good." I grinned to show that I meant no offense but somehow, I couldn't really find the strength to lift my lips beyond a wan smile. At Duo's startled look, I chuckled weakly. "And I'm no better myself."

Duo smiled again, the emotion more genuine this time. "There was always no fooling you, Quat. Your empathy really gives you an unfair advantage." He waved me in. "Come in, try to look for a seat somewhere."

I followed him. This, too, hadn't changed from the war. This careful, tacit acknowledgment and avoidance of… the acceptance. I could find no better term to describe it; it was not about the bruises or abuse. It was about understanding… and forgiving.

I'd always given in to Trowa. Why? I guess, simply because I can, and Trowa can't. In that sense, I am stronger than Trowa.

"Oh no, I hardly use my 'space heart' these days." I shook my head. Duo pushed some papers and electronic components from the large oval table that stood centerpiece in his small apartment into an empty crate. Various electronic gadgets lay scattered on the table, their innards exposed; testament that Duo retained the geeky curiosity and genius I remembered from the war.

I pulled up a wooden chair. The chairs, I noticed, were all mismatched but they were padded and comfortable. Duo's apartment was not large, but it was inviting with sturdy furniture and personal touches everywhere, like cheery rugs and painted upturned crates as tables and comics tucked under the cushions of the sofa. The walls were painted a somewhat faded yellow, but the posters pinned up brightened the place. It had Duo's personality all over it and it occurred to me to wonder if Duo was still with Heero. I can't see Heero's belongings anywhere, but then again, he had always been spartan.

"Huh?" Duo, with one last kick to the crate so that it slid under the table, looked up, clearly interested at my last comment.

"Actually, I trained myself to turn it off during the war. I had to, or I would have gone mad," I stated simply. "After a while, it became more and more of a habit not to use it. I don't really like using it; it felt… invasive." I shrugged.

"Huh." Duo gave a nod. "So, what brings you down here?" He stood up, pushing his chair back. "And, can I get you anything to drink? I've beer, juice, soda, tea, coffee…"

I gave a laugh. "Oh. Well, coffee please."

Duo shot me a curious look as he crossed the room. The kitchen was simply a small area, delineated by a short L-shaped counter, fridge and sink.

"In a way, coffee was what led to this visit." Despite what I said earlier, I now switched on my 'space heart'. It still felt like an invasion of privacy, but I thought this was important enough. "I was in Paris a couple of weeks ago, and ran into Wufei."

Duo started visibly and the mug he was holding came down onto the kitchen counter harder than he intended. "…Wufei?" His voice, and feelings, wavered with worry, anger, and most obviously, shame and guilt.

"Yes," I replied softly.

For a long while, Duo remained still. But underneath, I could feel that his emotions were all awhirl. Then, he started moving again, grinding the coffee beans and starting the espresso maker. When he spoke, his voice was steady, even though he was anything but. "So, how is he?"

"Happy. Very happy," I smiled. I told him about what Wufei and Trieze were doing, and about our conversation. Duo listened silently, the simple tasks of making the coffee soothing in that it gave him something to do. I could tell he was clearly disturbed but he kept quiet until I finished.

Walking over, he placed my mug in front of me, and sat down in the chair opposite me. He cradled his mug, looking down into the dark brown liquid. "That's great." He nodded, as if to confirm his previous statement. "That's really great. I'm very happy for Wufei."

I knew he was genuinely happy for Wufei; Duo was not spiteful or petty. Black shame engulfed him, and I ask gently, "But?"

Duo looked up at me, eyes anguished. "Quat, do you… I mean, you knew we were wrong back then. I knew what you did for him back then. You never hurt him, never shunned him. But I—"

"I did hurt him," I interrupted sadly. "My inactions were just as damning. I know how you feel; I feel just as ashamed."

"No!" Duo shook his head wildly. "Don't you see? I was his best friend! Some friend! I'm despicable!" He made a sound that was a half-wail, half sob. It was as if the dam of emotions inside him broke and it was now rushing out in a torrent of tumbling words.

"The worst thing was, deep down inside, I knew we were wrong. But I was too angry to listen, too stupid to stop. Too scared of Heero. And… oh god… toward the end of the war, after months and Wufei still… still stood by what he said… I just knew then but damn… "

"Oh Duo…" My 'space heart' was caught up in the maelstrom of Duo's emotions and my own. I vaguely registered warm tears running down my cheeks though Duo's remained dry even as he rambled on, a slight hysterical edge to his voice.

I let him. There was nothing else I could do, and really, it was for the best. It was cathartic. Duo had obviously not been thinking about Wufei since the war, but once I had opened the floodgates, all the prior shame and guilt rose back up like bile.

We talked on, cried and recriminated and confessed. Oddly enough, Duo kept wanting to hear more about Wufei's and Trieze's relationship; his eyes lit up in wonder when I mentioned how loving they were and he savored every detail.

"It's like they deserve it, yanno?" Duo explained, embarrassed. "Karma. And it makes me feel better too, like I don't feel so guilty because I know Wufei's happy now. That despite what we did… well, you know. Does that make any sense?"

I nodded, finishing the coffee. "You're a generous man, Duo."

Duo shook his head in disbelief, but I didn't press it. What I did wanted to ask though— "Duo, would you… would you want to meet up with Wufei?"

Duo shook his head again. His tone was vehement. "No, I can't."

"I'm sure Wufei has forgiven you," I said confidently.

"But I've not forgiven myself," he replied sadly, looking away. "He's happy now; I don't want to spoil that for him."

"Oh Duo, you won't. He'll love to make up with you…"

"Quat…" Duo said in a pained voice. "Quat, please. I can't face him. Call it pride or cowardice, but I just can't."

I huffed and pushed my mug away. "Not now… but one day?"

Duo eyed me warily. "Maybe." His tone was final.

"Just… just think about it Duo." I smiled. "Trust me, it's easier than you think. I speak from personal experience."

"Maybe."

"You can send him an email or something."

"Quat."

"Ok, ok." I held my hands up in mock surrender. "I know; I won't push."

"Thanks." Duo smiled. He stood up and gathered the cups. "Thank you for coming down too."

"It was my pleasure." I smiled back warmly. Duo walked towards the kitchen.

"How long are you staying?" He called over his shoulder as he rinsed the mugs.

I shrugged. "A day, maybe two."

"Good." Duo put away the mugs and patted his hands dry. He turned around with a broad grin. "Come on, how about I show you around L2?"

"Sure."

It occurred to me later that I didn't talk about the other reason for my visit — the sensitive subject that we never really talk about actually — but no matter. I promised myself, another time. For now, I just wanted to enjoy the company of a dear, old friend.


	4. One Phonecall

**Title:** Painted Crates

**Author** Kiarene  
**Pairings:** 5x13, 3x4  
**Rating:** G  
**Summary:** Just a Saturday morning in the Khushrenada-Chang household. Set in the Autumn Coffee AU.

**Published:** 4th December 2004  
**Disclaimer**You know the drill.

**Note:** This story just ran away from me. I really thought Autumn Coffee would be a one-shot.

**One Phonecall**

For once, Trieze woke before his husband. Stretching lazily, he turned on his side and admired the lean form that was sprawled out gracefully beside him. The early morning sun slanted into the bedroom, dim and misty, wrapping the room in shadows and peach.

Wufei was lying on his side, one leg drawn up and draped over Trieze's legs. Ebony silk tangled in glorious disarray around bare shoulders; Wufei's hair tie had probably fallen off again during the night. Trieze ran his fingers through the fine strands lovingly, careful not to wake his slumbering lover. Wufei complained frequently about his hair and occasionally threatened to cut it short but he never did because he knew Trieze loved it. It shimmered like the finest satin, cool and soft. Trieze also suspected Wufei had a secret wide streak of vanity, no matter how much he protested.

His eyes drifted downwards. Like most Asians, Wufei was did not have much body hair, and the Trieze had always found Wufei's smooth chest and abdomen extremely arousing — Wufei's slimness and heart-shaped face only served to further emphasize his boyishness. All right, so maybe Trieze did have a bit of a pedophile fetish. Just a tiny bit. The bedsheet covered his beautiful dragon from waist down, the thin navy silk draping artfully over the camber of slender hips. It was tented erotically.

Trieze grinned, slowly pulling the silk down to reveal a deeply blushing erection. The morning air was cool — soon they would have to change silk sheets for warmer cottons — and Wufei's nipples were tight little brown nubs. Leaning down, he licked one happily.

Wufei gave a murmur and turned onto his back, legs unconsciously falling open. And how could Trieze resist?

Moving his head down, he pressed a kiss to the darkly red crown before giving a wet lick. Wufei gave another somnolent murmur and Trieze took that as encouragement. He shimmied down until he was crouched comfortably over Wufei's erection, and gave a few warm-up licks. Long, wet ones with the whole of his tongue like he was licking a melting lollipop and Wufei squirmed breathlessly, still asleep.

Trieze considered, alternating licks and sucks now. Slow or fast? He took the head into his mouth, slurping thoughtfully. On one hand, he always preferred to make love slowly, to draw it out exquisitely. Something he had been trying to explain to his younger lover. Even now, Wufei was making those sexy little mews, rocking his hips impatiently. Fingers carded through his hair, urging him on.

On the other hand, Wufei was asleep. If he timed it just right, he could probably make Wufei climax _just _as he wakes up. Grinning, Trieze swallowed the engorged cock to the root.

A startled gasp. Slurred murmurings and soft, panting whimpers. Trieze kept only a light touch on Wufei's hips, allowing his lover to fuck his mouth. The fragrant musk of his lover, concentrated at the wiry curls, wended into his system like a drug with every inhale as he went down. God, he loved this, the lazy sensuality and perfect intimacy.

His own erection was aching now, drooling eagerly as he rubbed against the bed. It wasn't long before Wufei was thrusting erratically, balls drawing up as he moaned. Trieze kept his lips tight around the pulsing shaft, swallowing.

"Mmmm… Trieze?"

Trieze flopped on his back, fist pulling rapidly. His other hand reached down to cup his balls, his back arching up. Two fingers slid down, pressed against that sensitive strip of skin just below his sacs and oh…

"Yes?" Trieze purred, sated. Eyes closed, the delicious fine tremors of his orgasm still thrumming through him, he felt utterly boneless. Something soft and wet lapped at the creamy puddle on his belly, and he gave a slight huff of laughter but did not move away.

When Trieze was clean, Wufei slid up and pressed a kiss to the taller man's lips. "Good morning, lover."

"Yes, indeed," Trieze said with a Cheshire cat grin, arms wrapping around his husband and pulling him close.

* * *

Wufei was still in a very good mood when the phone rang. Sex and then breakfast would put anyone in a good mood. Even better, it was a Saturday. 

The two men were seated in their kitchen, sipping at their coffees as they read through the stack of newspapers on the table. The breakfast dishes rested on the loose papers as paperweights. They subscribed to numerous papers; some were fed electronically to their computers but for some of the better papers, they preferred to read the paper version. It was an enjoyable way to start the day.

"I'll get it." Wufei folded his paper and stood up. The phone was just outside the kitchen.

He glanced at the number but since he did not recognize it, he left the vid-screen off. "Chang."

There was a pause, and then, a male voice asked curtly. "Chang Wufei?"

Wufei stilled. That voice; he hadn't heard it since the war ended but he would never forget a fellow pilot. "Trowa Barton?"

"Yes."

Wufei stared at the black-gray screen, wondering if he should turn it on. Trowa didn't sound friendly. He wondered if the call had anything to do with Quatre; since they ran into each other a few months ago, they had exchanged a couple of emails. Nothing much; the tone was cordial and tentatively warm.

"Chang?" Trowa's voice sounded more surly.

Wufei snapped to attention, hand gripping the handset tightly. "Yes. Is there a reason for this call?"

"Is Quatre at your place?"

"No. Why?" A nasty suspicion started to form in Wufei's mind.

"And you haven't seen or heard from Quatre at all?"

"Answer my question first." Wufei scowled, his previous good mood gone. "What did you do to Quatre?"

"I didn't do anything to Quatre," Trowa growled. "And you haven't answered mine."

"Not until I know what's happening." By now, Wufei was convinced that something was wrong. Possibly, Quatre had left Trowa. Good, he though pettily. It's about time.

Quatre never said anything about Trowa in his emails, and to Wufei, that was all too telling.

"Wufei? Is everything ok?" Trieze called from the kitchen. He heard his lover's irritated tones. "Who's that on the phone?"

"Hold on," Wufei said curtly. Placing a hand over the headset, he turned towards the kitchen. "It's no problem. I'll tell you about it later."

"Ok." Trieze turned back to his papers doubtfully, but kept his ears open. Wufei occasionally got work-related calls and his dragon had a very short fuse, but still. He sipped his coffee, grinning wryly. He considered it his prerogative and privilege to worry about his husband.

"Turn on the vid-screen," Trowa commanded suspiciously.

Wufei snorted but pressed the button anyway and replaced the handset. As if he had not been trained to lie with a straight face. The screen flickered on.

Wufei glowered at Trowa, who stared coldly back. Like his Trieze, Trowa had the classical European features: deep-set eyes, aquiline nose and sensuously thin lips, hair just a shade darker than Trieze's russet. But that's where the resemblance ends. Wufei noted the harsh set of Trowa's face, the furious glint through his visible eye — Trowa still retained his long fringe — and downturned lips. In fact, while Trowa may have grown older, harder, he hadn't really changed much since the war. He was even wearing a green turtleneck.

Wufei felt a strange sense of déjà vu — how many times had he remembered that face glaring at him like that? Full of distrust and rancor. But this time, Wufei refused to be cowed.

"Did Quatre leave? You must have done something." Wufei asked, unconsciously crossing his arms in a belligerent pose.

"So you do know that he left!" Trowa accused, his suspicion confirmed. His arms were crossed as well.

"Well, the very fact that you called me to ask _me _where he is would tell me that Quatre left, wouldn't it?" Wufei drawled.

Trowa flushed angrily. Yet, Wufei could tell that Trowa was pretty worried under that simmering anger, and took pity on the other man.

"How long has he been gone?" Wufei asked briskly. His mind fell back to the Preventer procedures for missing people; he was not in that department but he had read the handbook.

When Trowa did not reply, Wufei snapped. "Look, Barton. I don't like you and you don't like me. But for Quatre's sake, because he just might be in trouble if he's missing, I'm willing to help you even though I think Quatre would be much better off without you."

"It's none of your business," Trowa said stiffly. He moved—

"Do _not_ cut me off," Wufei leaned forward, glaring. "You hang up now and _if_ I do hear anything from Quatre, I will_ not_ call you."

Reluctantly, Trowa nodded.

"Wufei?" Trieze suddenly spoke up, face shocked as he looked at his lover's angry face and then at the vid-screen. Wufei glanced at his husband in surprise; he had been so distracted he hadn't heard the older man's approach.

"Barton." No matter how much Trieze disliked the other pilots, he wouldn't do something so plebian as yell obscenities or hang up, even if those were his first impulses. No, his disdain was more than adequately carried in that icy tone.

"Trieze…" Wufei looked meaningfully at the scowling man.

Trieze sighed, but he refused to move away. Unseen by the vid-phone, he placed a hand on Wufei's lower back and rubbed the tense muscles there.

Wufei turned back to the screen and waited. After a pause, eyes flickering between Wufei and Trieze, Trowa said tersely, "I haven't heard from Quatre since Tuesday."

"That's four days ago," Wufei said. A bit of scorn crept into his voice. "And you haven't been able to find him…?'

Trowa stared back angrily. "No." He took a breath. "How long have you been in contact with Quatre?"

"A few months. But only a few emails, nothing much. And no, Quatre hadn't said anything to me." Wufei thought back, running over the emails in his mind. No, they were polite, uninformative. "Do you think he might be in danger?"

Kidnapped? The ugly word hung unsaid. After all, Quatre was the head of a multi-national company.

Trowa shook his head. "No ransom note. Also…"

Wufei waited.

"He has been secretly making some trips to L2 in the past couple of months," Trowa admitted reluctantly. "And you're not the only Gundam pilot he resumed contact with recently."

"Duo?" Wufei asked. Trowa's lips thinned. Wufei suddenly knew. "You think he ran away with _Duo_?"

The hand stilled on Wufei's lower back stilled, and then slid downwards, one finger sliding between his cheeks suggestively. Apparently, Treize found the idea hilarious as well.

Wufei wanted to laugh but Trowa's statement stopped him. "Maxwell… wasn't at his apartment either. A check with his landlord showed that he had not been seen for the past four days."

"So Quatre ran away with Duo. Good for them." Wufei smiled nastily. The finger between his ass cheeks wriggled, and Wufei resisted the urge to smack his husband. "It's probably not for the reason you think, but even if they are having a torrid affair behind your back, I couldn't care less."

For a brief moment, a look of hurt crossed Trowa's angry features and Wufei felt like a heel. "It was a mistake calling you." Trowa snarled.

"Wait—" Wufei held up a hand. "Barton. As much as I would like to end this conversation with you now and as much as I dislike helping you, I will offer you some suggestions." He paused. "Have you contacted Yuy?"

"Yuy broke up with Maxwell last year."

"Oh." Wufei hid his smirk. _Oh._ Well, now. No wonder Trowa was automatically suspicious. "Ok. More importantly; do you think Quatre left for a reason? A reason that might be in part due to your actions?"

Trowa frowned defensively. "That's none of your business." Abruptly, the screen switched off.

"He hung up on me!" Wufei stared at the phone incredulously, torn between indignation and amusement. The latter won and he started laughing.

"Wufei?" Treize asked cautiously.

"My god. Did you see his face? That was… ok, I know it was horribly malicious to find amusement in others' misfortune… but it was so funny." Wufei wiped his eyes, still laughing hysterically. "He _really_ thought Quatre was having an affair with Duo! What did he think of me? That I was secretly harboring the two supposed lovers?"

Trieze smirked. "I'd say he deserve it."

Wufei nodded, finally smacking his lover's hand away from his butt. "I almost wish Quatre _was_ having an affair with Duo."

"You don't think so?" Treize asked curiously.

Wufei shook his head. "Oh no. Those two love each other like brothers. They just have horrid taste in lovers. I had thought they would be better off with each other but I knew they don't see each other that way."

They walked back towards the kitchen. Wufei grinned in glee, slipping an arm around Trieze's waist. "Well, like I said earlier; good for them, wherever they are."

Trieze looked at his manically cackling lover, a sly grin on his face. "Dragon. You _can _be evil after all."

"Yes, I do know it's bad of me—" Wufei gave a guileless smile, eyes dancing merrily.

"No no, I don't think it's bad bad, just naughty bad." Trieze grinned. And he scooped up Wufei over his shoulder. Slapping his squirming lover smartly on the ass, he said sternly. "And naughty boys need some…_ guidance_."

"Wait! Trieze, you asshole!" Wufei shrieked as he was carried towards their bedroom, wriggling madly. But Trieze had a very firm grip and to be really frank, Wufei wasn't struggling all _that_ hard.

* * *


	5. Palm Trees

**Title:** Palm Trees

**Author:** Kiarene

**Pairings:** 3x4, 5x13

**Rating:** G

**Summary:** Quatre thinks.

**Published:** 14 July 2005

**Disclaimer:** You know the drill

**Note:** For some odd reason, I started the Autumn Coffee AU from Quatre' POV, then switched over to third person for the other pilots. For some other odd reason, I've been keeping to that even though I think it's not too consistent. Still, first person works for this chapter. Sorry about any confusion.

**Palm Trees**

I flipped my cell phone close, trying to ignore the lump in my throat. I could still hear Trowa's latest message.

"Please come back, Quatre."

I had never heard this …broken tone from him before.

"I'm …sorry. I have been an asshole. I don't know what to say… what I can say or do to make you realize that I…" And his voice cracked, almost crying. "Quatre, please. I know I don't deserve it but… just give me another chance."

I placed my phone down on the plastic table beside me and leaned back on the white plastic lounge chair. The soft swishing of the surf and rustling of the palm trees shading me did nothing to calm the turbulent emotions within me. My overly large sunglasses slid down my nose bridge and I pushed them up again.

"Please…"

As far as I could remember, Trowa has never pleaded. Never begged.

"I miss you so much, Quat."

He is always the strong one, the stoic one, while I'm usually the sensitive one. The one who cried. My eyes stung.

It hurt. I don't hate Trowa, I could never hate him. I didn't leave because I hate him or because I want him to suffer. I never wanted him to hurt.

Though the air was warm and humid, a delightful breeze from the sea and the trees kept me from overheating. Still, a fine sheen of sweat covered my back, which stuck uncomfortably to the plastic lounge chair. Turning slightly to my side, I sighed at the cool relief.

Lying on my side, I could see Duo having fun, his braid swinging as he bounced energetically around in the sand, still as nimble and acrobatic as he had been in his youth. The spectators in the beach volleyball match cheered as he scored another point with a well-placed spike. Where does he find the energy? I grew up in a desert so I am comfortable with the heat, but I'd always been taught to avoid the worst of the sun and relax during the hottest parts of the day. It became a habit.

Leaving had been a good idea. Actually, I knew I should have left a long time ago. So that was not the problem.

We've been crisscrossing Asia for the past month — the latest being one of the many little-known beaches in tropical Thailand. We've taken small domestic flights and coaches, taxis and trains, even a tuk-tuk yesterday; such modes of transport didn't require us to leave any sort of identification, unlike international flights. And contrary to popular belief, it was fairly easy to run a large international corporation — it's so large that it ran itself, with numerous regional managers and, below them, divisions managers taking care of the details. So far, I had only needed to call in personally a few times, but by then, Duo and I would have left by the following day. It would take Trowa quite some time before he would be able to track us here, and we would be long gone by then. If I still wanted to go.

Therein lay my problem.

I was unhappy. I needed to get away. Our relationship is abusive and poisonous, any love we might had would have been slowly faded away. So I left.

But, I still am not happy. If anything, I am even more miserable.

My eyes flickered to my phone again. Trowa had called me every day, just once a day, but he has never missed a day. I never picked up but he always left a message on my voicemail, pleading for me to forgive me.

To go home.

I looked at Duo again, torn. Duo had broken up with Heero last year; an 'official' breakup with Heero removing what little of his own possessions from Duo's apartment, but they have been steadily drifting apart since the war ended. Heero had duties on Earth; Duo chose to stay on L2. It had only been a matter of time.

Duo hadn't missed Heero at all, and Heero hadn't tried to contact him. I have no doubt Heero knew Duo was no longer on L2 — he's scary like that — but he probably didn't care. For Duo, all he needed was a change of pace, an abrupt change of environment to jar him out of his apathetic state. For Duo, this trip is a vacation; for me, the painful breakup of the only romantic relationship I have ever had.

Duo is happy.

I am not.

Closing my eyes with a sigh, I thought about Duo's advice. About going out, about trying again. After all, Trowa was my only boyfriend. What do I know?

…I knew that the couple of times Duo has tried to set me up with another guy, usually in a group date with him, always ended up in a disaster. I couldn't stop thinking about Trowa.

Then I thought about it. About picking up the phone and calling him. About going back, about trying again.

_"Please come back, Quatre." _

I picked up my phone.


	6. Rose Gardens

**Title:** Painted Crates

**Author** Kiarene  
**Pairings:** 5x13, 3x4  
**Rating:** PG  
**Summary:** Trieze is irritated.

**Published:** 16th July 2005  
**Disclaimer**You know the drill.

**Rose****Gardens**

"Who was that?" Trieze called out, keeping one eye on a boiling pot of pasta even as he spooned in some tomato paste into the pan, over the frying onions, sliced capsicum and chopped meat. He gave it a stir, covered the pan and turned down the heat on the boiling pasta.

When Wufei was slow in replying, he turned his head in worry. "Wufei?"

His husband walked into the kitchen slowly, eyes down and thoughtful, biting his lower lip in a way Trieze knew it meant that he was very worried. Wufei stopped beside the fridge, leaning against it, and looked up. Trieze waited.

"Well, it looks like we'll be having a guest over for the next few days," Wufei said, combing his fingers through his ponytail. "Sorry, I agreed to let him stay over before I checked with you, but—"

"You know I'm not bothered by that," Trieze broke in breezily. He eyed Wufei's nervous grooming. "But?"

"…oh, um." Wufei flushed. He fiddled with the tips of his hair.

Trieze turned around, stirring the pasta sauce again and adding a dash of oregano.

"It's Quatre."

Trieze jerked, then cursed softly under his breath as too much oregano now dissolved into the simmering sauce. Replacing the spice bottle, he turned to his husband. "What!"

"No, wait. Let me serve the pasta first. At this rate, I'll end up ruining dinner," Trieze muttered, holding up a hand, the other pinching the bridge of his nose.

Wufei nodded and started to set the table stiffly as Trieze finished cooking. When they were seated, Trieze looked at his husband again. "Let's try this again…" His right brow twitched. "Quatre Winner!"

Wufei winced. "He called me, said he needed a place to stay."

"He's the CEO of the Winner Corporation. I find it hard to believe he has nowhere to stay." Trieze picked up his fork and twirled his pasta. It had too much oregano, but otherwise, deliciously perfect as always.

"He said he wasn't ready to talk to Trowa yet," Wufei said lamely, and started eating as well.

"He can not talk to Barton from anywhere in the world, or even off it. He need not do it from our house." Trieze realized he was sounding petty, but while Wufei may have forgiven Winner, he would never excuse pilots 02 and 04 from their roles in hurting his Wufei. "What about Maxwell? Weren't they together?"

"Yes… er, I mean yes they had been traveling together ever since they left, but they are not together in that sense." Wufei chewed, swallowed, and twirled more pasta. He kept his eyes downcast. "I'm sorry, I didn't think about how awkward this would be for you. But I just couldn't turn him away, and he looked so depressed."

Trieze felt like a heel. Reaching over, he caught hold of Wufei's wrist gently. "Love, I'm sorry. I didn't mean to put you in such a position. Of course I would support you in whatever you choose. It is only for a few days, right? Sure, he can stay."

He smiled gamely, pushing down his own feelings of ire towards the other Gundam pilots and their god-damn relationship problems. Mentally, he repeated to himself that he should be more understanding of his husband's position. While the other pilots had treated him badly during the latter part of the war, they were, understandably, a very important, if distasteful, part of his husband's past. Like relatives. He thought of Dorothy and twitched involuntarily. He can do this; he can put up with Quatre for a few days. On the bright side, if he had to deal with one of the other Gundam pilots, at least it was Winner.

"Thank you," Wufei said gratefully, finally looking up at him. He smiled happily. "I'm so lucky that I've such an understanding husband."

Trieze knew he wasn't being understanding — he still didn't like the other pilots but he would do anything for his dragon. But he smiled back and released Wufei's wrist. Picking up his fork again, he asked casually. "So, when is Winner coming?"

* * *

"Thank you for having me here." Quatre said, running a nervous hand through his hair self-consciously. He shot another glance at Trieze.

"We have space," Trieze said coolly. He stood at the doorway of the guestroom, arms crossed, as he studied their guest with clinical curiosity. On the surface, Winner appeared well; he looked tanned and healthy. However, his eyes were dull and his lips a little pinched — Wufei was right. Winner did not look happy. But Trieze didn't care, really.

Trieze sighed and turned his attention to something a lot more enjoyable — watching Wufei. He smiled fondly, thinking that his husband was really quite adorable. Quite a perfect little host.

Wufei was oblivious to the stiff atmosphere as he bustled around the guestroom, flinging open doors and windows. "Oh, we're glad to have you here. It was no problem at all. Now, this door leads to the bathroom, and while the balcony has a lovely view, the sliding doors are quite stiff. This house is quite old and we decided to keep what we can intact. Unfortunately, this means putting up with squeaky floorboards and drafty windows."

The guestroom was large and airy. The walls were painted in a creamy yellow, the floorboards a lovely, weathered oak. There was a large bed against one wall, and a wardrobe, dresser and desk against the opposite wall. The tiny balcony, just barely large enough for a small wrought iron table and chair, overlooked Trieze's prized rose garden, which extended around half of the house.

The faint scent of roses hung in the air. Already, the blooms are wilting; autumn is coming.

Wufei turned back to Quatre, smiling. "I know you must be tired after your trip, so I'll just leave you to settle in. Do you want to have dinner with us? Trieze is planning to cook some Greek dishes tonight."

Quatre glanced at Trieze, who stood behind Wufei, a distant and bored expression on his face, and demurred politely. "Ah, no thanks. I actually have a dinner appointment tonight."

Wufei looked disappointed. "Oh, all right then."

"Have a good rest, then." Trieze slung an arm around his husband's waist and led him gently but firmly from the room. The door clicked closed behind them.

"Do you have to go into work today?" Trieze asked casually as they walked away.

Wufei shook his head. "I took the day off so I would be free to receive Quatre."

Trieze suppressed a momentary surge of irritation. Instead, he led his husband into the nearest room, which happened to be their library, and locked the door. When Wufei looked up at him in surprise, he pinned the smaller man against the door. "I must admit I'm jealous. All you've been talking about for the past couple of days was Quatre."

"Trieze, you don't have to be…" Wufei looked a little surprised.

Trieze pressed a light kiss to Wufei's parted lips. "Hush. I want your full attention. On me. Now." His hands rested on the small of Wufei's back, rubbing in slow circles as his voice dropped huskily. "I want you to think of me, only of me."

Wufei moaned softly, draping his arms around Trieze's shoulders. "You know I don't like Quatre that way."

Trieze frowned. His hands slid down to cup his husband's firm buttocks, pulling the smaller man up and against him as he growled. "How dare you talk about another man while I am with you like this."

Lips, hot and wet, trailed down Wufei's neck. "I want to drive you mad, be consumed with only thoughts of me."

Another soft moan. Like a pole dancer, a slim leg came up to encircle his hips, rubbing and thrusting. Wufei peered up at him under dipped lashes. "You do drive me mad."

Trieze groaned, a low, needy sound. "Gods." Jerkily, he began to pull Wufei's shirt off. "I need you. Now. Naked." What was it about Wufei that could reduce him to a monosyllabic caveman?

"Hey, wait!" Wufei yelped, crossing his arms over his chest in a vain attempt to keep his shirt on. Trieze only thought it made him look utterly erotic, and growled again.

"What if Quatre overhears us?"

Wufei, Trieze knew, was easily embarrassed. Even prudish. That was one reason why for the first time in Trieze's pampered life, they don't have any servants in the house. Otherwise, the ex-general knew he wouldn't be able to get any sex. Trieze groaned again, this time in horror as he realized that with a guest in the house, their usual activities would be severely curtailed.

"Frankly, I don't give a damn." Trieze yanked Wufei's hair-tie off. "And what have I told you about mentioning another man's name when you're with me, like this?"

"Trieze!" Wufei shrieked as he was scooped up. Then he clasped a hand over his mouth.

Trieze smirked, carrying his lithe husband over to the large sofa. "Yes, do continue that. I only want to hear you scream my name."

Wufei blushed. And scowled cutely. "I won't."

"Is that a challenge?" Trieze's smirk deepened.


	7. Smoky Bars

**Title:** Smoky Bars

**Author** Kiarene  
**Pairings:** 5x13, 3x4  
**Rating:** PG  
**Summary:** Duo is an awful gossip.

**Published:** 17th July 2005  
**Disclaimer**You know the drill.

**A/N: **Because I'm on a roll. Because I can't seem to crank out anything for Takeover. Sigh. This story is rather fun because it's unconventional. Everyone's probably OOC though.

**Smoky Bars**

When it was time to pay the bill, Quatre waved away Duo's protests and told the waiter to put it on the hotel room tab — the one Quatre was paying for.

When Quatre told Duo how he felt about Trowa, and how perhaps he should try again, Duo made his objections known. Vehemently. But Quatre had been firm. He compromised though, and he decided to take things slowly. But he also knew that Trowa would pressure him before he was ready, and he wanted to dictate their new relationship at his pace. But who could Trowa not intimidate…?

Wufei's name immediately came to mind. Quatre initially discarded that option as quickly, but the more he thought about it, the more he felt that staying with Wufei was a good idea. For one, Trowa wouldn't dare try anything with Wufei, especially not with Trieze around. Trowa certainly won't be dropping by, not at Wufei's place. It was a good place to hide, even if Quatre felt bad about using Wufei like that. Also, Quatre had this ….masochistic desire to know more about Wufei's and Trieze's seemingly perfect relationship. He was, to put it succinctly, horribly envious.

Duo had grumbled and objected and pleaded, but in the end, he followed Quatre to Paris, saying something about at least seeing Quatre safely to Paris. He still refused to contact Wufei though, warning Quatre not to tell Wufei anything about him. Quatre had sighed, knowing that he had too many personal problems to be worrying about his friends' relationships. Instead, feeling bad about ditching Duo abruptly, he had insisted on paying for Duo's stay in Paris.

"Have you called Trowa yet?" Duo asked brusquely as they left the restaurant and headed for the hotel bar. The lounge was dimly lit; the miasma of expensive cigarettes and cloying perfume hung in the air. They were quickly shown to a small table with two high-winged chairs beside the window. In the corner of the room, a singer sat on a high stool and sang to taped music, her voice throaty and low.

Quatre would have loved to eat out at one of Paris' many fine restaurants and perhaps stroll down the charming cobble-stone streets afterwards, but he didn't want to risk being seen. Not just yet. Here in Europe, his chances of being spotted were a lot higher. A quiet dinner in the hotel sufficed.

Quatre took a seat, shaking his head. "I left him an email, saying I'll contact him again in a couple of days, so that he wouldn't worry."

Duo looked disapproving but held his tongue. For a while, they perused the wine list. Then Duo spoke up again, "How's Wufei?"

"…Happy," Quatre replied. He shook his head discretely at the waiter, indicating that they were not ready to order just yet. "Very happy."

"I really don't get it. How does he do it?" Duo asked wistfully. "What did he do right?"

Quatre was silent for a while. "I think a large part has to do with Trieze." He remembered how Trieze had hovered protectively and attentively around Wufei. "I get the feeling that he has Trieze wrapped around his little finger."

"Really! So Wufei wears the pants in their relationship?" Duo asked lightly, but Quatre could tell he was extremely curious. He raised a brow and Duo grinned back.

"Well, not exactly that." Quatre was almost definite that Trieze was the top, always. He smirked, recalling the interesting sounds he overheard earlier that afternoon. He had never heard Wufei shriek like that before.

"Wufei doesn't order Trieze around — I don't think he even realizes how much Treize dotes on him — but I could tell that Trieze is utterly head over heels for Wufei and that there's nothing he wouldn't do for Wufei." Quatre laughed in rueful embarrassment. "For example, Trieze wasn't too pleased I was there, but he was obviously trying very hard for Wufei's sake."

"Ooo… Interesting." Duo processed this little tidbit thoughtfully.

Quatre smiled wryly. "When I asked Wufei before, he said that there was no point in constant recrimination about the past. Something about having learnt from his mistake — he spent so long fixated on the idea of vengeance that he almost lost Trieze. He didn't tell me the details though. Just that…" Quatre paused, trying to remember Wufei's exact words, "if he constantly dwells on the past, he would never be able to move on in the future."

Duo fell silent, his gaze looking out onto the street. "He's a lot more mature that we are."

"Aa." Quatre nodded sadly. "Sometimes, I feel that we — Trowa and I — are no different from the teenagers we were during the war. Constantly stuck in an endless cycle…"

"Still, I guess I could understand how he would want to forget and move on, but I know I wouldn't be able to forgive like that." Duo shook his head, baffled. He turned to look back at Quatre, intense and troubled. The dullish apathy that had so worried Quatre when he first visited Duo on L2 had long fallen away, leaving his violet eyes bright and lively again — what Quatre thought was Duo's most beautiful feature.

"I mean, avoiding Heero helps and I find myself moving on slowly, but I don't think I would want to face him. It's… awkward."

"To put it mildly." Quatre agreed, closing the wine list and placing it back on the table. He thought of his own situation and smiled wanly at the other man. "But you can't run and hide forever, Duo."

"Sure I can," Duo snapped. He flicked his braid back in irritation. "I handle my problems, my way."

"Whatever you say." The blond shrugged.

"It's rather like picking at an open scab, don't you think?" Duo snorted angrily, and shook his head. Catching a waiter's eye, he ordered a Bloody Mary. Quatre selected a dry white.

Forcing a fake cheer into his voice, Duo deliberately changed topic. "Enough about depressing stuff. Give me the juicy details."

Quatre opened his eyes wide, innocently. All right — he'll go along with Duo.

Duo took a sip and regarded the blond sternly. "I know how dirty-minded you can be. Now. Spill."

"I don't think we should be …gossiping like this," Quatre huffed mock-primly.

Duo eyed Quatre. Quatre crossed his legs and leaned back in the plush armchair, lips quirking up in a slight smile.

"You're so boring."

Quatre savored his wine. His grin widened.

"You know, I had always thought that Wu-man was the most prudish boy I met, always ranting about justice. Some rich, sheltered scholar who probably thought masturbation was taboo. Then I found out that he had been married before the war and I thought, the fuck? He has had sex even before I had! I also thought he was the paragon of heterosexual-ness… and then I find out that he's with another guy. An older guy. Who also happens to be the enemy. Talk about all the deep waters." Duo whistled, squinted. "Now I've this image of Wufei as this… this… uh… very deep sex maniac."

Quatre couldn't help it; he bent over, spluttering in laughter. "Deep sex maniac!" The other patrons turned to stare disapprovingly and he tried to lower his volume. "Your …choice of words! My god!"

Duo was laughing madly too, almost falling out of his chair. "Oh man, I killed myself. Image, image!"

"Shhh…." Quatre waved his hand frantically. "Do you want to be kicked out?"

"Ok…. ok…."

"Mmmf…. deep …."

"…."

"How deep can you go?"

"….stoppit!"

* * *

Wufei sneezed. And sneezed again.

"Are you all right? Are you cold? You're not feeling sick, are you?" Trieze asked in concern. He pulled off his scarf and rapidly wrapped it around his husband's neck, ignoring Wufei's grumbles. The weather was getting colder; he knew he should have insisted that Wufei wear his red coat, which was warmer.

"Trieze, stop it!" Wufei hissed, flushing in mortification. To his horror, Trieze's hand actually came up to feel his forehead, as if he was a child! He was sure that the other movie-goers exiting the theatre around them were laughing at him. "This is so embarrassing…"

Trieze hurried to catch up and wrapped one arm around Wufei's shoulders. "Why?"

Wufei groaned silently. No matter how much he protested, Trieze insisted on fussing over him. Although frankly, a small part of Wufei enjoyed that attention. A very, very small part. Still…

"It's nothing. I'm not cold. Just a bit of dust in the air," Wufei muttered sullenly, cheeks delicately flushed. He dug his hands into his pockets and hunched his shoulders.

Trieze planted a kiss on his temple.

Wufei sighed in defeat. And leaned closer.

* * *


	8. Scrambled Eggs

**Title:** Scrambled Eggs

**Author:** Kiarene  
**Pairings:** 5x13, 3x4  
**Rating:** PG  
**Summary:** Trieze makes breakfast. Quatre follows Wufei to work.  
**Published:** 11th Feb 2006  
**Disclaimer: **You know the drill.

**A/N: **Sorry about the long delay between chapters…

**Scrambled Eggs**

Trieze thought about preparing breakfast in bed for Wufei as he headed towards the kitchen. In the early morning, the house was very quiet. As he drew nearer, he heard muffled clinking noises and frowned.

Winner.

Very few things ruffled Trieze Khushrenada, of course one being his adorable husband, and so the ginger-haired man sternly reminded himself that such a distasteful arrangement was only temporary. That he would put up with Winner, and the occasional annoying call from Barton, for Wufei's sake. He once commanded an army — getting along with an unwanted houseguest was nothing. It was only temporary…

A forked brow twitched.

Except that it has already been a _week_ since Winner arrived, and it doesn't seem as if he would be solving his problem with Barton anytime soon. In other words, it doesn't seem as if he would be leaving anytime soon, and it was severely cutting down on his nookie-time with his dragon. So far, it had been rather easy to avoid Winner — for himself. Unfortunately, the problem was that Wufei was _not_ interested in avoiding Winner and it became a severe test for Trieze to see which he would rather do — avoid Winner or miss time with his Wufei, since Wufei was trying hard to spend time with the blond ex-pilot these days. Winner, too, seemed to be eager to rebuild his friendship with Wufei.

What an annoying person.

Trieze debated momentarily if he should come back later when Winner would have left the kitchen, then decided that nobody was going to kick him out of his _own_ kitchen. When he stepped in, Winner was seated at the counter, sipping at a cup of tea. Moving past Winner as if he wasn't there, Trieze proceeded to take out a few eggs and milk. Scrambled eggs were quick to prepare and he could be back in their bedroom in fifteen minutes.

The eggs sizzled in the frying pan, fragrant and warmly yellow. While waiting, Trieze took out an orange and sliced it neatly. He could feel Winner's eyes on his back as he moved about efficiently, but he ignored the other man. However, it seemed that Winner didn't feel the same.

"Khushrenada…"

Trieze poured out the coffee from the French press into two cups and arranged the sugar bowl and creamer neatly on a tray.

"…I just want to thank you for your hospitality."

"It's Wufei's hospitality, not mine," he replied coldly. He slid the eggs onto a plate and covered it, before leaving the pan in the sink to soak. Picking up the tray, he prepared to leave.

Then he changed his mind. Without Wufei around, this was a good opportunity to give the blond man a piece of his mind. "Winner, do you know what your problem is?"

He turned his head to look at the confused blond, his eyes hard. "You are too passive. Do you know why you're still here? You're making the same mistake you always had — you do not dare do anything. It's been a week since you arrived. Tell me, have you contacted Barton?"

"…yes."

Trieze sneered at that weak reply, his grip on the tray tightening. "Talked to him? Solved anything? _Done_ something?"

Winner kept guiltily silent.

"Wufei suffered because you didn't dare do anything. I will never forget that," Trieze hissed, and turned to leave.

"You're weak."

* * *

Quatre was stunned.

_You do not dare do anything._

His tea cooled as the other man's words ran through his mind. It's true. He has always been what he though was the 'peacemaker', the one who stayed out of conflict, the one who wrung his hands and tried to plead for others to stop. In a family of twenty-nine females, he learned to avoid direct confrontation. But in the end, that could be just as bad.

He has always been what the psychology books called, passive-aggressive. He didn't always let others walk over him; rather, he'd simply smile conciliatorily and later, quietly, sneakily, get his way. He had always taken pride that such an approach made both parties happy… But not always.

_Weak._

Yes. Yes, he was. He always had relied on people to take care of him; his Manganacs, his sisters, his board of directors, to catch him if he falls. To shield him if the situation got nasty. Even during the war, the other pilots often distributed the jobs such that he rarely got to fight on the front-line.

_You're weak._

His hands clenched. Unclenched. He had been trained as a Gundam pilot. Groomed from young to take over a corporate empire. Somebody strong. Independent. A leader.

But where was the man he was supposed to be?

* * *

Wufei stirred sleepily as the rich smell of coffee wafted through the room.

"Good morning!" Trieze sang merrily as he strode in the room. He placed the tray on the wheeled bedside table, pushing it until the table was over the foot of the bed.

"Oh!" Wufei came awake, looking greedy and guiltily at the food. He gave a yawn and sat up, blinking owlishly. "You didn't have to—"

"But I love to." Trieze slid into bed beside his husband. "It's just a simple breakfast, nothing lavish."

Wufei looked pointedly at the tiny vase with a single rosebud. The cutlery caught the morning light that streamed in through the sheer curtains, and the napkin Trieze deftly placed on his lap was pressed linen.

"You're always doing so much for me," Wufei said softly. He picked up a wedge of orange and bit into the sweet fruit. "I'm terrible with housework, I can't cook…"

"But you make me so very happy," Trieze said, a besotted smile on his face. Wufei gave a sheepish sigh.

Wufei never did household chores as he was growing up, turning his nose up at what he deemed 'women's work'. Even during the war, the Gundam pilots were too busy running and taking care of their machines to worry about the houses they stayed at. Food was usually something bought from the supermarkets, hardly fine cuisine. Moreover, five teenage boys? _Laughed_ at the idea of wimpy housework. They often camped out for days in the forests; dusty floors and moldy toilets and scuttling insects were nothing.

And so, when he moved in with Trieze, he was utterly mortified to realize that compared to the ex-general's impeccable habits, he was a slovenly barbarian. His attempts at cooking, well, the food was edible. Just.

Wufei tried hard though, until he realized that his attempts were simply resulting in more work for Trieze to clean up. Along the way, they came to several agreements. Wufei didn't like the idea of Trieze shouldering all of the household chores, even if the retired general didn't mind, and so now a maid comes in once a week to clean the house, and they send their laundry to the cleaners twice a week. However, cooking was something Trieze genuinely enjoyed.

"I could never match the things I do for you, to what you're giving me," Trieze murmured, forking a bit of egg and holding it in front of the dark-haired man.

"How can you say that? I'm not even doing anything!" Wufei felt utterly useless, next to his older, more competent and richer husband. He accepted the egg absently, and Trieze felt his loins stir at the adorable pout.

"Well then, you can just keep that up if you want to make me happy."

And when the breakfast was finished and Wufei pushed the table away to thank him properly, Trieze felt very happy indeed.

* * *

The sound of footsteps broke Quatre from his thoughts. A glance at the kitchen clock showed that he had been there for almost an hour. Shaking his head, he got up and threw away the cold tea.

Wufei stepped into the kitchen, dressed in casual jeans and a deep green shirt. He was carrying a laptop backpack.

"Going to work?" Quatre asked curiously. Wufei had taken a few days off the previous week to show him around.

"Yes. I've a meeting," Wufei explained. A thought struck him. "Uh… Would you like to see the Preventers office?"

The offer was tempting. "But, won't I be in the way?" Quatre fretted.

The Chinese man gave a small laugh. "I'm sure Une and Sally would love to meet you, and as an ex-Gundam pilot, you would definitely be welcomed."

"Well, all right." Quatre placed the cup on the drying rack. "Just let me get changed."

Wufei was watering the plants in the living room when Quatre came down, dressed in a brown suit. The Chinese man raised a brow, putting down his watering can on a dish in the corner. "There's no need to be so formal."

Quatre looked faintly embarrassed as he fiddled with his tie-clip. "I usually dress like this when I go to work. Shall I go change?"

"Oh no, that's fine. You forget who my husband is. Trust me, I've seen _formal_," Wufei assured him. Picking up his bag and keys, he strode out the door. "Come on."

The Khushrenada-Chang garage housed a low slung sports car and a sports bike. Quatre was surprised when Wufei walked past the car. "Er…"

"Oh, Trieze is taking the car today," Wufei tossed Quatre a helmet.

"But…"

"Hey, don't worry. I've been riding for years, remember?"

Quatre shuddered. He did remember — the pilots were all fanatical speed freaks, but while the others preferred fast cars, Wufei's and Trowa's vehicles of choice were motorbikes. Only under dire circumstances would he pillion behind Trowa.

"Hey, why the pale face? I'm an excellent rider," Wufei said confidently, straddling the bike and pulling on his helmet. He stroked the bike lovingly. It was a beautiful machine, all sleek and sharp angles, in glossy black with a Chinese character painted stylishly in red on the fairings. Quatre recognized it as the character for 'dragon'. Even Wufei's black helmet matched his bike; a little red dragon was painted on the side.

Quatre gave the car a last wistful look, and reluctantly climbed on behind Wufei.

"Now remember, don't hold me, hold the tank!" Wufei's voice was a little muffled, from under the full-face helmet.

Quatre gave a little shriek as they peeled away. And this was why he was so reluctant to ride!

Wufei, like Trowa, was an excellent rider. Top-notch skills, lightning reflexes… and the balls to use them.

Quatre's hands were clammy against the cold metal of the tank as they weaved in and out of the traffic. Colors and shapes whizzed past. It was terrifying to see that, but when he knew from experience that if he closed his eyes, the sensations were much worse.

Whenever they entered a long stretch, Quatre could _feel _the bike accelerating, and he chanted frantically, "Slow down slow down!" The steady whine of the engine increasing as the revs climbed reminded him of a jet engine taking off… and that image did not help!

But the truly heart-stopping moments were whenever they rounded a corner, so low and so tight that Quatre had horrifying visions of them skidding and sliding.

When they finally arrived, Quatre got off shakily. Once he managed to pull his helmet off, he turned to yell at Wufei. "Didn't you hear me screaming at you to slow down!"

The overhead fluorescent lights in the basement carpark off glinted Wufei's helmet visor as he turned to Quatre, before the Chinese man took off his helmet. He switched off the engine and without the whine of the bike, the underground enclosure sounded suddenly quiet. "Did you say anything?"

Quatre huffed in frustration, knowing that Wufei probably couldn't have heard him over the sound of the engine. "You were going too fast!"

Wufei _actually _had the nerve to look surprised. "I was not! In fact, I was actually going quite slowly today because we weren't wearing protective gear."

"You mean… you normally go faster than that?" Quatre asked in a faint voice.

"Yes," Wufei said blithely.

"Still," Quatre worked back some of his outrage. "You were cornering dangerously low!"

The two men walked towards the elevator. In the back of his mind, Quatre noted that most of the lots have already been filled up. It was past nine, after all. Apparently, Wufei was able to enjoy quite a fair bit of flexibility in his working hours.

"I wasn't cornering low," Wufei argued back. "Why, my footpegs didn't even scrape the road!"

Quatre shuddered again and held up his hands. "Enough."

As the doors closed, Wufei glanced at Quatre, and then said in a deliberately light voice. "You never rode pillion on Trowa's bike?"

Quatre was a little startled. Wufei had carefully avoided any mentioned to Trowa, or any of the other pilots, since he had arrived. "Oh no, of course not," he replied, in the same light-hearted tone. "Does Trieze ever ride pillion on your bike?"

Wufei sighed. "No, he refused to."

Quatre snickered.

* * *

Quatre had thought he might be horribly bored, or that he might be intruding upon Wufei's colleagues, but to his surprise, he realized he was enjoying himself. Many of the older Preventer agents had been key military personnel during the war, and recognized the blond ex-pilot with admiring respect. Quatre himself recognized quite a number of familiar faces; he was pleasantly surprised when he realized that the head of the engineering personnel was in fact one of the mechanics who worked on their Gundams!

"I'm not sure how long the meeting will take," Wufei worried, clutching his laptop and a mug of coffee. "Will you be—"

"Sure, I'm a big boy, I can take care of myself for an hour or two," Quatre said breezily. "I'll probably amuse myself by hacking into your secret files. Then I'll post your porno pictures on the Preventers' intranet bulletin board."

Wufei snorted in disbelief. Quatre raised a brow, and patted the monitor in front of him. "You doubt my hacking skills? Moreover, I've console access."

Wufei snorted again, and walked off with a lazy wave. Quatre grinned, and turned back to his email.

Another thing he had found surprising was the relative ease he could manage his company, even from a distance. Of course it was most efficient if he was physically at his desk, eight to six every day, but even now, he still managed to get a goodly amount of work done with the use of technologies such as vidphones and emails.

He had fled, literally, when everything became overwhelming. After the initial euphoria dissipated, he felt like a naughty schoolboy playing truant. When he checked in on his company, it was with a sense of dread and trepidation. But, his company wasn't doing too badly and he cleared up the urgent matters quickly. He felt simultaneously relieved and bewildered, then crushed and depressed and redundant. Wufei had scolded him, saying that it simply showed that he has a competent team of employees and he was working much too hard, and Quatre simply felt a little foolish.

As he wrapped up the last email, a message flashed. It was Trowa's daily email. Quatre felt excited and clicked on it eagerly. Oddly enough, their relationship had improved since he left. Trowa didn't sound as surly, and the demanding tones of the first few emails became remorseful. Usually, Trowa would write about the daily happenings, what was going on at the circus or the latest local news. The message usually ended with a plea to 'come home' or 'forgive me'.

Both Duo and Wufei were of the opinion that he should simply leave. Find someone new. Khushrenada, of course, couldn't care less. The few friends he was in contact with were divided. But he couldn't do that… He thought about it often. What if he were to find something new? Move on?

But the thought of being with someone else seemed like a betrayal, and his thoughts constantly drifted back to Trowa. What should he do?

However, when he caught sight of Wufei's expression as the agents filed out from the meeting later, his pensive mood fled. He asked worriedly, "Bad news?"

Wufei made an attempt to ease the frown from his face, and he sighed. "Pretty much so."

Une entered Wufei's office, shutting the door behind her. "Quatre Winner. I heard from the other agents that you were here today." The older woman looked at him speculatively.

"I happened to be free today," Quatre said politely. They made small talk for a while, as Wufei filed some reports and checked his emails.

"It's really too sad Wufei is the only ex-Gundam pilot we have," Une said suddenly. She sighed dramatically. "Lord knows we could use more agents of his caliber."

Quatre fought down the urge to fidget under her thoughtful gaze. He had no doubt the formidable woman knew of the Gundam pilots estrangements — she was one of Trieze's main aides, and he could practically see the wheels in her head spinning at his presence. Wufei had never been in contact with any of the other ex-pilots for years, and suddenly one shows up?

"Well, just speaking for myself, I'm just a humble businessman now," Quatre said blandly.

"What about the others?"

"What about them?" Quatre felt uncomfortable. Une's eyes were sharp, the gray in her hair and her severe bun only reinforcing her reputation as an iron lady.

"We have an emergency. I trust I am not exaggerating when I say it is serious, and we need capable agents. No, not just capable, but exemplary," she said crisply. Wufei's head turned, his eyes widening slightly in surprise. "Now, we could field as many of our top agents as we could spare…"

Quatre knew what was coming.

"Or we could send in just a few of the best."

For several long minutes, the office was silent. Then Quatre shook his head. "I doubt if we're even half as fit as we were during the war, Lady, We're older now. Rusty." He gave a deprecating smile.

"It's not so much your physical ability I'm interested in, as your other skill sets," Une said smoothly. "The Gundam pilots' infiltration skills, hacking and intelligence gathering, were infamous. For just a small group of teenage boys, you five had an impressive list of contacts all over the globe, and even in space. More than anything, you have the experience."

She leaned forward. "What do you think?"

* * *


	9. Phonecalls

**Title:** Phonecalls

**Author**: Kiarene  
**Pairings:** 5x13, 3x4  
**Rating:** PG  
**Summary:** Some phonecalls.

**Published:** 3th Feb 2006  
**Disclaimer:** You know the drill.

**A/N:** I know it's been a year (!!) between chapters… My apologies. RL has been hectic, but I haven't given up on this story.

**Phonecalls**

As the ex-general of Oz, Trieze, officially, wasn't supposed to be involved in any military or political affairs. It had created quite a bit confusion among the bureaucrats when his husband joined the Preventers, considered an independent semi-military global police force, but then his husband was a decorated pilot from other Other Side of the war. Society has always been very stuck on the idea of a 'Winning Side' and a 'Losing Side'.

So it wasn't as an ex-general of Oz that Trieze called Une, but as a pissed husband of one of her agents.

"I thought you said that Wufei would not have to be involved in any more dangerous missions," Trieze hissed.

On the vidphone, Une looked pained. Wufei was one of her best agents, one of the very few she could send out and know he'd get the job done. But Trieze was her superior. Well, not for the past few years, but old habits die hard.

"I said, as far as possible, I'd keep Wufei out of direct involvement. This situation is quite an exception," the Preventer head said soothingly. "Moreover, of all the agents, I wouldn't worry about Wufei. He's our best—"

"Accidents can happen even to the best," Trieze cut in coldly. To everyone else, Trieze knew, Agent Chang inspired awe and appeared untouchable. But to his biased eyes, Wufei looked too slender, too innocent and too entirely vulnerable. The thought of Wufei injured sent cold shivers down his spine.

Une tried another tack. "Why don't you talk to Wufei about it? My hands are tied; as the head of the Preventers, it is my duty to send in the best agents I have for any mission," Une said slyly. She knew Wufei wouldn't simply 'retire' to a desk-bound job, partly because of his sense of duty and partly because of his male pride. The ex-pilot was only in his early twenties, the prime of his life.

Trieze eyed the smirking woman sourly. He knew that she knew that he was calling her behind Wufei's back — the proud Chinese man would have a fit if he knew. "You know as well as I do, how stubborn Wufei can be."

Une knew to back off graciously at this point, or at least stop smirking; she had won this tiny skirmish. "Like I had said earlier, we really do need Wufei's expertise for this mission. I've even tried to recruit the other Gundam pilot, 04. Quatre Winner, was it?"

"Oh?" Trieze looked indifferent.

"Wufei told me something interesting — he said that Winner is staying at your house for a few weeks," Une prodded slyly.

"So he is." The ginger-haired man gave a shrug.

Une hissed in frustration. "So spill. Why is Winner there? We all know that relations between the Gundam pilots were cool, to put it mildly, at the end of the war. And as far as my intelligence tells me, the only pilots that kept in contact was 03 and 04. Even 01 and 02 were reported to have drifted apart a year back."

"I didn't know your intelligence network covered the romantic lives of Gundam pilots," Trieze looked amused.

"With their background and their skills, even if they're not directly involved in military matters, they're quite the wild cards." Une fell silent at this point, her brow furrowing. Treize waited, wondering what she was planning.

"You're quite a wild card too," she said abruptly.

Trieze shrugged again. "You know as well as I do that I am unable to involve myself in any military- or political-related matters."

"A pity, that," Une said coolly. She adjusted her glasses. "But, since you're so concerned about your husband's welfare, I guess I wouldn't mind if you …_accompanied _your husband."

Trieze raised a brow, the forked tip twitching.

"Of course you are not allowed to act in any …_official _capability, but I'm sure any helpful suggestions from a well-meaning spouse would be taken in consideration. For the sake of my agent's safety, of course."

Trieze mulled over the idea in his mind. Truthfully, there hasn't been any sort of checks on him for the past few years; everyone, himself included, had assumed that he no longer had any ambitious aspirations. And he hadn't. He would be content to spend the rest of his life in quiet seclusion with his husband and his writing. It was just the kind of peaceful life he had yearned for as a general…

His gaze fell to the picture of Wufei on his desk. His husband stared back at him,

The quiet life _was_ nice while it lasted, and he _was _getting a little bored. Of course he was doing it all for Wufei…

"Well, my latest manuscript is just about finished and I have some time on my hands now," Trieze drawled slowly. Une smirked.

The two leaned forward.

* * *

As the vid-screen flickered off, Quatre sighed and flopped back in his seat. That didn't go as badly as he had feared. In fact, it went rather well. Trowa was polite, stable. The tall man had always been stoic, his face a mask. However, no matter how well he schools his face and gestures, one thing he always couldn't hide was his eyes. They've always had this slightly maniacal look, a tad too intense such that they unsettle most people, a sharp, unwavering dark green. More and more in recent years, his lover's gaze had been almost too painfully direct, almost as if he was distrustful of Quatre.

But, that sharpness was missing today.

And for some reason, it all unnerved him.

In a fit of spontaneous insanity, he had agreed to help Une. And, perhaps it was really something in his coffee that morning, he thought about calling Trowa onto the project.

He quickly squashed the idea, but like a bad growth, it nagged at the back of his mind all day until he forced himself to examine his reasons. He realized that he had intuitively thought of calling Trowa because such a project was similar to the kind of work they did during the war — nothing like his corporate work now.

It was ugly work, the fighting and espionage and sabotage, but he realized that he missed it. Because he was working with Trowa. Because they were equals. They each had their specialties and they worked as a team.

Quatre didn't know when they started drifting apart… Was it when they shunned Wufei? When he didn't agree with Trowa's extreme methods? Or was it when the war ended and he went back to take over the helm of his family's company? When he moved on, looking forward to his company's future, while Trowa retreated back into his past? When he began to be affected by social expectations and pressures.

Perhaps it was a bit of everything.

And so, a part of him yearned for those times again, when emotions were simple. But is it so simple? His mind whispered harshly. Can you just go back?

Quatre stared at the blank screen.

No, he doesn't know. But he would try.

And if it doesn't work out…

Quatre sighed, and then picked up the phone again. The screen showed an animated picture of a cat chasing a ball of yarn as he dialed his latest employer and waited for the call to go through.

"Une." The cat caught the yarn, and the image fizzled to show the Lady's stern visage. Quatre began to talk.

Une looked thoughtful and pleased. "Your help would be invaluable. Are you sure pilots 01 and 02…?"

"Duo declined, and I couldn't contact Heero," Quatre murmured. "Une, we no longer go by those numbers; we're not Gundam pilots anymore, remember?"

Une raised a brow, then smirked. "Well then, we'd just have to christen you with new Preventer-styled names." She tapped the pen in her hand against her chin thoughtfully. "Agent Chang is Fire—"

"Fire?!" Quatre snickered.

"Suits him, don't you think?" Une said coolly. "How about Sand for you?"

Quatre thought it was terribly cliché and corny and told Une so. "As if calling yourself numbers was any better," she said waspishly.

Quatre started to retort, then realized how foolish it seemed. "All right, all right. Sand it is," he capitulated, throwing his hands up.

* * *

Trieze sighed, and then leaned over to make one last phonecall for the day.

"Khushrenadra."

"Barton."

The two men eyed each other warily in mutual dislike, yet they kept their features carefully neutral.

Trieze sipped his brandy calmly — he certainly felt like he needed the fortification — and then placed the heavy glass aside and proceeded to talk. About Quatre Winner. Trieze did not have much contact with the blond ex-pilot, but he told what he could. What Winner did, what he said, how he seemed, who he came into contact with, and if he mentioned any plans for the next day.

It was an odd alliance. One day, Trieze just got fed up with the stalemate situation — Winner didn't dare to go back, Barton didn't dare to push, Wufei didn't know what to do, and nobody else was any help at all. At this rate, he would never be able to get any nookie with his husband!

So he simply called Barton. Told the other man bluntly that he was willing to supply any information as long as Barton got off his ass and did something, anything to bring his own lover home, and yes, he fully understood it was a delicate situation all around but really, was Barton really satisfied with a polite phonecall every few days?

It became a daily update.

Trieze wondered when he became the cupid and counselor. To them. The horror. "And so, as far as I can tell, Winner hasn't met anyone nor does he seem interested to. Maxwell has called a couple of times — apparently he has a new boyfriend and is trying to get Winner to join the dating club but according to Wufei, Winner isn't interested."

"…Winner will be in the Preventers' office all tomorrow, but I overheard him telling Wufei he was thinking of buying some books at Karnes and Karnes this Saturday. I assume he means the branch in Paris."

Barton listened impassively, only the occasionally tightening of the skin around his eyes and mouth betraying his emotions. "Thank you," he said finally, gravely.

"Don't thank me. I'm only doing this for myself," Trieze said dismissively. "And hurry up and haul Winner's ass home."

Barton gave a nod. The screen winked black.

It was true. Trieze really had no interest in the other two pilots' love life, or lack thereof, unless it interfered directly with his own. They can get together or they can break up, but as Winner seems to be as indecisive as usual, he can only hope that Barton would do something.

With Winner gone… Trieze's grin became goofier as he contemplated the return to their idyllic life.

tbc...


	10. Rubber Duck

**Title:** Rubber Duck  
**Author**: Kiarene  
**Pairings:** 5x13, 3x4  
**Rating:** PG  
**Summary:** Trieze makes a slip… but bounces back!  
**Published:** 10th Feb 2007  
**Disclaimer:** You know the drill.

**Rubber Duck**

Trieze's frown grew more and more pronounced as the meeting continued.

As there were not many agents involved in the high-priority project, the meeting was held in Une's office. The agents were seated in a semi-circle, facing the wall where an array of pull-down screens held the various plans and maps discussed.

Trieze sat quietly in a comfortable chair in the corner of the room, feet propped up on a small footstool and an opened book on his lap. He was quiet, still. Dressed simply in a pair of elegant tan pants and simple white shirt, he tried hard to be part of the furniture.

A nagging little voice told him that perhaps, he should have told Wufei he would be sitting in during the meeting.

Ah well… He'll do it later.

But rather than fading in the background, everyone was hyper-aware of the tall man. Nobody was exactly sure just _why_ he was there, though rumors abound. If the ex-general's expressive brows creased in thought, the person speaking would stumble; if he smiled or nodded slightly, that agent would continue in relief, speaking with increased confidence. All were in awe, even a little fear, of the ex-general's reputation

Everyone except Wufei, that is. The Chinese man was dressed casually as well in dark jeans and a black tank-top; while he was in the office though, he wore a navy Preventers jacket with dull gold trim, utterly innocuous except for the unusual rank on the left sleeve and epaulet. While everyone else had either gold bars or crabs, his was a silver bar, slightly thicker than the average bar. Easy at first to overlook… if it wasn't for the fact that only a small handful of agents around the world were allowed to wear them.

Trieze's brows drew closer as Wufei continued, his mouth tightening. However, he refrained himself from interrupting, and his fingers drummed the padded seat of his chair distractedly. Wufei concluded his plan, oblivious to the dark scowl on Trieze's face. The other agents in the room waited nervously, eyes darting between the slim Chinese man and his husband.

Une cleared her throat. "…"

"No." Trieze cut in flatly. It was the first time he had spoken since the meeting started.

Numerous eyes darted back to Wufei, who looked almost surprised that his spouse was even in the room. The Chinese agent shot his husband a sharp glare. "What do you mean, no?"

Wisely, everyone else kept quiet. Wufei could be hot-tempered, but he had always been professional. They hoped.

"Exactly that," Trieze replied testily. The ex-general too, could be professional. He was a general after all. "What you proposed is simply too reckless. Surely you don't plan to recon the drop-off point by yourself, do you?"

"I have been planning and executing such missions _flawlessly_ for years," Wufei's tone was equally waspish. "The area is not even classified as a risk 2 zone. Such a mission is well within my abilities. Recall Gatara Base?"

"Stadinger Base," Trieze shot back triumphantly.

Wufei winced ever so slightly at that reminder. "Marks Bay."

The temperature in the room dropped perceptibly. A nasty hit. Trieze's and Une's lips pinched tight at that reminder. The bombing of Marks Bay was a particularly sore point for Trieze; his favorite lake house, may it rest in its pieces, had been located just a couple of miles down that same bay. Wufei looked smug. Quatre hid a smile behind his hand. Everyone else looked nervous.

"That was _years_ ago."

"Are you insinuating I cannot kick their asses now, like I did yours years ago?"

Everyone shivered. Fights within the same camp were never nice, and marital fights? The ugliest. Trieze stood up, placing his book carefully on the footstool. Unspoken, the two men left the room, leaving a frosty silence.

After a few moments, Une cleared her throat. "Branner, let's hear your report next."

* * *

"How dare you undermine my authority like that?!" Wufei hissed. The two men stood on the roof of the building, near the fenced edge for privacy. From their vantage, they could easily keep an eye on the stairwell. The air was crisp, even a little chilly. 

"And for that matter, what the hell were you doing there?" Wufei yelled. He slammed a fist against the fence, rattling it. "It's a conspiracy… And you! You _knew_ I wouldn't… _couldn't_ say anything because the meeting was about to start, and I thought, maybe you were there for some innocent reason. Have you forgotten the restrictions on you? What if you were found out…"

Trieze's lips were drawn tightly, his hands trembling slightly where he balled them in his pockets. He wasn't really listening to his husband's rant. Anger, fear, confusion flooded him. He _knew_ what Wufei was doing all these years; he was in the military and he was not ignorant of the scope of the job his husband did.

Yet… It had been all too easy for him to fall into a complacent lull. The years following the war were peaceful and Wufei worked easy hours. Une gave him unheard-of flexibility in choosing missions and managing his time. Most importantly, he always returned safely, and Trieze somehow always thought that Wufei would _always_ return to him, safe and whole.

Sitting in on the meeting rattled him. Treize had wrapped up his military past as in warm, fluffy cocoon; a romantic source of machismo for his novels. He had …forgotten just how dangerous it was. How many military mission planning briefings had he held? He knew full well the risks — how could…

"How could you subject yourself to unnecessary risks?" Trieze blurted out.

"What?" Wufei blinked, and his expression became angrier. "What do you mean, unnecessary? And what do you mean, how could I? How could _you_ do that to me? In front of my team?"

Heated words flew between the two. One was shaken by his terror, the other mortified by his husband's behavior in front of his subordinates.

"What if something happened to you? Aren't there any other agents? Doesn't Une have any other competent agents?" Fear sharpened the ex-general's tone.

Wufei gritted his teeth. There _were_ other agents who were perfectly capable of carrying out his mission… but he always felt most secure if he did it himself. "I am leading this team…"

"All the more you should keep yourself safe!" Trieze clutched Wufei's shoulders tightly, almost painfully.

Wufei caught his husband's forearms. "I am the head of the team, and I have a job to do. You…" His grip tightened, and then he shoved Trieze's hands off. "You are undermining my authority."

He spun on his heel and took a step away. Then he paused, looking back at his husband. For a moment, Trieze was forcefully reminded of the cold pilot who swore vengeance upon the blade of his katana — the look in Wufei's eyes were intent and deadly. The years of peace have not softened the warrior; the blade had not been dulled, only sheathed.

"If you cannot accept that, then please do not come into any more of the meetings."

* * *

Wufei's words echoed in Trieze's head as he eased his cold limbs into the fragrant hot bath. Long after Wufei left, he had remained on the cold roof, thinking. He had been stunned at his reaction and extremely upset at their argument. They hardly ever argued, though they did disagree playfully often, but they rarely argued to this extent. 

Tilting his head back, he stared despondently up at the ceiling. After his temper, and various other important bits, cooled off, he realized he had been acting like an idiot. Remorse settled in uncomfortably. He was still upset over Wufei's missions, but…

He flicked the yellow duck sulkily, sending it skittering across the water surface. It had been a silly little gift, something they won as the 111th patron of a Chinese restaurant. Wufei wanted to give it to the little girl next door but Trieze insisted they keep it for a while. It hung around their bathroom since, occasionally joining them in their bath.

Another sigh echoed in the steamy room. "Trieze…"

Trieze looked towards the entrance as Wufei stepped in. Their eyes caught, tightened momentarily before relaxing. Mouths quirked ruefully. They have been lovers too long for such a spat to truly affect them.

"Sorry," Trieze whispered. Hm, maybe he did make a mistake by not telling Wufei first.

Wufei quickly stripped, shedding his team commander persona with his clothes. Finally he pulled off the rubber band that held his plait with a sigh and ran a hand through his hair, shaking it loose, a sight that never failed to turn Trieze on. Trieze could fully understand why some cultures considered hair to be a sexual object. Wufei's hair was long and silky, a rippling river of black that fell softly around his face and caressed his shoulders and back.

Wufei didn't say anything, but the deliberately casualness of his movements told Trieze that while Wufei hadn't totally forgiven him yet, he wasn't as upset as he had been earlier. It was as if the steam in the room dissipated the chilly tension between them. Trieze watched as Wufei sat down on one of the short stools in front of a faucet and started to shower.

Though their house was left traditionally French in many ways, Wufei favored a Japanese-styled bathroom. Two shower faucets at thigh level were situated at one wall, near the bathroom door. Toiletries lined the shelf above the faucets. The tub, if it could be called that, took up the other half of the room and overlooked a section of Trieze's extensive gardens. Though their property was quiet and nobody could really _accidentally_ look into their bathroom, a profusion of tall bamboo just outside the generous window provided an additional screen of privacy.

Trieze thought he always looked a little silly on one of the little stools, whenever he caught sight of himself in the mirror. Perhaps the stool was a little too short or perhaps it was the color scheme of the bathroom, or perhaps only oriental-looking people can look natural bathing like this while he just looked weird, because Wufei, on the other hand, looked ethereal. Like a Chinese water nymph.

Trieze had a fondness for cheesy Chinese porn. Or Japanese or any sort of Oriental porn that involved exotic limpid eyes, graceful robes and long dark hair, especially those set in a period drama scene where indoor plumbing hadn't caught on yet.

A final rinse, and his water nymph stood up, gently squeezing excess water from his hair before he slid into the tub. Water sloshed over the sides and the yellow duck bobbed back towards the first occupant. Trieze flicked the duck again towards his husband, abashed. "Am I forgiven?"

"No," Wufei growled, catching the duck and squeezing the squishy foam toy. Settling back against the opposite side from Trieze, he extended his legs. "You haven't yet explained what you were doing there. In the meeting."

Trieze picked up one foot and started massaging. "I'm really sorry. I wanted to know more about what you do. Well, and I've just finished my latest book, and I'm feeling not too inspired right now, so I thought perhaps a change of pace would be good. I'll keep really quiet now; I promise not to say anything to undermine you again."

Wufei kept up a sulky silence. Trieze rubbed each toe in turn, gazing besottedly at his husband's adorably pouty lips.

Finally, Wufei huffed. "You're entirely too silver-tongued for your own good. You can't just …come into a classified meeting like that. I'm surprised Une didn't throw you out."

"I am?" Trieze grinned. His hands moved higher, long sweeping strokes against the taut muscles of the other man's calves. "How about this; I clear this with Une tomorrow? And if she says yes…"

Trieze was charming and sleek, grandiose with his words and flamboyant with his actions. Wufei knew it and unfortunately, Trieze knew it too. Wufei glared, determined not to let his husband off too easily. "Higher," he commanded imperiously, and lifted his knee slightly. "This does _not_ mean you're forgiven. In fact, you're anything but forgiven. And don't think you can coerce Une into letting you stay. I know you're not her superior anymore but she still jumps when you tell her to."

Trieze merely hummed in agreement, rubbing harder. His grin broadened.

tbc...


	11. Beet Borsch

**Title:** Beet Borsch

**Author:** Kiarene

**Pairings**: 5x13, 3x4

**Rating:** PG

**Summary:** Mission's over; Wufei and Quatre wait for their pick-up.

**Published:** 1 Sept 2008

**Disclaimer:** You know the drill.

**Notes:** My apologies for the very long delay in updating. I think this story does not have much longer to go, maybe another chapter?

**Beet Borsch**

Wufei sat primly in the café patio, legs crossed neatly, dress draped neatly. His posture was ramrod straight, almost painfully so. On his right of the square table, Quatre looked more relaxed, though he also looked faintly uncomfortable. The two of them were positioned such that Wufei had a good view of the café entrance while Quatre faced the street.

Moscow was now a busy, thriving capital. It was devastated after the war but had since recovered. In a way, precisely because many of its buildings and infrastructure was destroyed, the city had to be rebuilt anew. Now gleaming skyscrapers boldly defined the horizon and the shiny Metro-Light, or ML, wound silvery tracks around the city. Quaint little cafés and boutique shops that dotted the stylish city catered to a population that was desperate to put the war behind them in every way possible.

Although he was the agent heading this mission – this very long and multi-part mission – he chose to come down to finish the last and most important part. Partnered with Quatre, the two ex-pilots quickly collected the last pieces of evidence they needed and the Preventers were now scrambling to prepare the legalities and arrests. The timing was important; all those involved had to be arrested at the same time so none would have the opportunity to warn the others.

"Why are you so uptight, Lin?" Quatre murmured softly. "This is not the first time we've done something like this…" He was referring to the cross-dressing part, of course. The other parts were easy, but they had to remain in disguise. The rules were simple: If either agent was alone, male or female agent, then it would be more sensible to dress as a male as a lone female, especially one who's unknown to the neigborhood, tended to attract unwanted male attention. If there were two agents, then a male-female or female-female pair made more sense. People tended to ignore couples snuggled in dark corners – perfect for surveillance – or two women, but two men tended to attract stares. And since both Wufei and Quatre refused to cross-dress if the other did not, they both ended up with the female-female option.

Wufei nervously smoothed out the lap of his dress again. He was wearing a deep red Chinese-styled tunic with high cut slits at the sides, over black leggings and ankle boots. It matched his coloring very well, and was in fact quite comfortable. The high slits and leggings would allow him to move easily if he had to fight.

"Leslie, the last time we did this was years and years ago. When we were still boys. And when it was acceptable for girls of the same age to appear flat and skinny." Wufei felt all too aware to the padded bra and hip pads that curved out his figure, certain that he looked like a guy in drag.

Quatre ignored the admiring look of a passerby and calmly sipped his tea. With his neat blue business suit and matching pumps, he looked like a professional businesswomen, sharp and expensive. The two of them looked rather good actually; and seated down, their height or muscles were not as apparent. "Yes, it's quite surprising that we can still pull off looking like women."

"That's hardly comforting to our male ego, you realize?"

Quatre tilted his head and gave a sweet smile. "Why?" He leaned over to Wufei with a saucy grin. "We are gay, you know."

Wufei shot the blond a frown. "Being a gay does not equal being a woman."

Quatre tittered, fluffing his blond curls. He knew that and Wufei knew he knew that, but he liked teasing Wufei. Plus, it was getting boring, waiting for their pickups to arrive. "You mean you've never role-played?"

Wufei flushed lightly. Trieze had wanted to – many times – but he was always too shy. Going out in disguise as part of his job was fine and he could act very well, but role-playing for the sake of kinky sex… well, that was totally different!

"We role-played often," Quatre whispered half-seriously to Wufei. "I suppose because of the status imbalance in our real jobs, role playing allowed us to keep things more equal."

Wufei and Quatre had become much closer over the past couple of weeks because of the shared mission, and Quatre, especially, had opened up to Wufei about his problems with Trowa. Although sometimes, Wufei did think that it was a bit too much information at times. Still, he couldn't help himself…

"What kind of role play?"

"Boss and secretary is our favorite—"

"—which explains why you knew exactly what kind of business suits to buy when we got here," Wufei injected snidely.

"But I also like general and captured pilot," Quatre teased.

The light pink across Wufei's cheeks blossomed into a full red. "Wh… why?" He was mortified. How could they have usedthat as… Oh. He remembered Quatre saying that he had read all of Trieze's books…

Quatre only shot him a saucy wink. Wufei muttered a few obscenities in Mandarin.

Suddenly, Wufei's eyes widened. "Oh. God. No."

Quatre panicked, and turned his head. Had something gone wrong?

Treize sailed into the café grandly, and stopped in front of their table. When he smiled, his smile was dazzling. "My apologies for my tardiness, ladies."

"Oh, that's quite all right, Vladimir." Quatre stepped in when it appeared that Wufei was still a little too shell-shocked. "We haven't ordered yet… Perhaps you could do the honors?"

"Why certainly," Treize said jovially. He signaled a waiter, who promptly came over with three menus. He opened the offered menu and browsed thoughtfully as the waiter hovered. Treize quicky made up his mind and rattled off a long order in flawless Russian.

After the waiter left, he turned to Wufei with a flirty purr. "And how are you, Lin?"

By then, Wufei had recovered. Initially, he had been both shocked and elated. Shocked that Trieze was the contact they were supposed to meet, and yet elated because it has been a long month undercover and he missed his husband dearly. Then, he remembered the restrictions placed on Trieze after the war and he was terrified, for Russia was one of the countries that emphatically banned the ex-general. And now, he was furious.

"What do you think, Vladimir," he leaned forward, hissing coldly.

Trieze winced. "Ah, love, really. I can explain."

"I'm sure you can." Wufei had no doubt about that. Trieze probably had a very good explanation and he was not stupid enough to get caught. But that does not mean he cannot be utterly mad at the reckless husband. His hands clenched with the effort to not throttle the irrepressible ex-general; really, often he wondered who was the more mature one in their relationship. He can't scold Trieze now, but just wait until they're alone…

Their food came and it was excellent. Trieze hummed in pleasure at his hearty beetroot borsch and Wufei felt himself softening. The two of them, but especially Trieze, were somewhat of epicureans and loved good food. And while Russian food could be found in Paris, it was usually in swanky restaurants. That was usually the case for many types of imported international cuisines – as they are usually meant to be a showcase of their culture, only the best, and hence expensive, are introduced. But sometimes, simple fare was just as good. Sometimes even better.

"How's the borsch?" Wufei asked. He took a sip of his own soup. It was quite good, though he was not an expert on Russian food, despite his husband's background.

"Wonderful," Trieze gushed, almost crying. He had a broad smile on his face.

"I'm happy for you." Wufei tried to remain cross but sighed in defeat. "Did you arm-twist Une?"

"No, I would not be so crass," Trieze looked shocked. "I simply said I missed good borsch and blini and syrniki…"

"And Une casually mentioned that she needed someone to pick us up in Moscow?"

"Why yes, actually."

Wufei rolled his eyes and Quatre muffled a giggle. Une may now be the head of the largest policing organization in the world and Trieze, just a humble writer, but she would always cave to him. Trieze liked to pretend to be clueless about his influence he still retained, but Wufei knew better.

When they were done and Trieze had paid their bill, the three stood up to leave. "What time's our flight?" Quatre asked as they walked out.

"Well, you see…" Trieze coughed. "Lin's and my flight will be delayed…"

"Tr… Vladimir," Wufei hissed at Trieze.

Quatre smiled knowingly. "That's fine with me, I can leave first. And Lin, the reports are already in. Go take a break. You've been working non-stop for the past three months."

"Exactly." Trieze nodded, grinning broadly. "You've been outvoted, Lin."

"That's my cue." Quatre laughed, and held his hand out to Trieze. "Now, my ticket please?"

"Wait, hang on." Trieze's grin faltered slightly. He stuffed his hands into his long coat, and Wufei could tell that his husband was a little nervous. Wufei frowned. "Don't take it the wrong way; I'm just the messenger."

"Oh?" Wufei and Quatre turned to look at the ex-general, wary.

Trieze leaned towards Quatre, his voice low. "You have two options. I can pass you the ticket for your flight, which leaves in two hours, or… you can meet another contact."

Though he spoke softly, both ex-pilots heard him clearly. "What?" There should be no reason to change plans unless something had gone wrong…

Wufei quickly ran through their activities for the past few days. The mission had went through smoothly and there appeared to be no indication that anything was amiss.

"Lin, calm down." Trieze's eyes flickered to a small park bench to his right. "Yes, it's not part of the agenda, but perhaps, Leslie might be interested in… a date."

Two pairs of eyes casually glanced at the bench Trieze looked at. Wufei did not recognize the man seated there, a tall figure in a dark stylish trench coat and hat, but apparently Quatre did. The blond went still.

Wufei looked at Quatre, concerned. "Are you all right?"

Quatre remained quiet for a few moments, and then he turned to Wufei with a smile the Chinese boy had not seen in a long time. It was a just a small upward tugging of the lips, but his whole face was alight with hope and relief, his eyes bright and fixed on Wufei and also on something distant that only he could see, something possibly wonderful. "Yes, I will be."

Wufei blinked, uncertain as to his friend's unusual mood. Quatre laid a hand gently on his forearm. "Really, it's nothing bad. I'll see you back in Paris in a few days. Meanwhile, enjoy yourself. And Vladimir… thanks."

"Ok-ay," Wufei felt like he was missing something that both Trieze and Quatre and probably that mysterious man on the bench knew.

"See you later." Trieze wrapped an arm around Wufei and guided him firmly away. "Don't worry, he'll be fine," he whispered into Wufei's ear, the latter frowning faintly with worry.

Looking over his shoulder, Wufei tried to see what Quatre was doing but Trieze was insistent. "This is between them."

"Who is that man?"

"Barton." Trieze's voice was very soft, just in the very remote possibility that they were being watched.

To his husband's surprise, Wufei relaxed, and the two continued to stroll along Moscow's trendy streets. It was late summer but already the temperatures were starting to drop. Wufei shivered lightly when a brisk wind blew, wishing he brought a coat or wore a thicker outfit. Trieze rubbed his arm and the slighter man sighed at the heat. Perhaps it was his Russian heritage but Trieze never seem to be as affected by the cold to the extent he was.

"Why?" Wufei cocked his head to stare at Trieze curiously. "I know you don't like B, so…"

Trieze shrugged with a rakish grin. "Who ever said it was for him? The quicker Leslie forgives and goes back to B, the faster we can get back to our normal lives."

"Sure," Wufei laughed. He didn't believe Trieze; his husband was too big-hearted for that.

"I'm being truthful!" Trieze pressed a kiss to Wufei's cheek. "Now, enough about others. I want to see how Moscow has changed since I was here last… That must have been over ten years ago!"

He looked around at the streets with wide eyes. "And it has changed a lot. I've seen vids, but there's nothing like seeing a place in person."

Wufei made a face. "Sure, I'd love to explore Moscow with you, but first, tell me you've booked a hotel room somewhere. I'd like t ochange out."

"Of course I did. But why change?" Trieze leered. "I think you look very nice as you are now."

Wufei flushed, hissing at the other man. "Because I don't feel comfortable in this outfit."

"But I never get to see you like this. Please?" Trieze pleaded, his eyes comically wide. Wufei winced. Trieze… should not be the type to do puppy eyes but that does not stop the ex-general anyway.

"No!"

"Aw dear, don't be like that…"

-- tbc


	12. Suits and Backpacks

AN: Apologies for the long long wait. I've been wanting to wrap this story up but…. This chapter was written in spurts over long periods of time, so I hope it is not too disjointed. I can't believe this was last updated almost four years ago! Anyway, this is the end. The boys met, interacted, grew. Some things stayed the same, some things changed. That's life.

Chapter 12

Suits and Backpacks

Quatre came to a stop in front of Trowa. "Hey."

Tired eyes looked up at him hopefully. The lines around the corners of his eyes and along his forehead seem deeper than before. When he spoke, his voice was hoarse, fatigued, but Quatre noticed that he seemed to lack that angry edge he always seemed to carry around. "Hey yourself."

Quatre took a seat, and the two men sat in awkward silence. It had been months since Quatre left, but in a strange way, they were now closer than they had been for years. Trowa called everyday, or when Quatre was on the mission, left him daily emails. Quatre, too, started to respond, and they ended up talking more while apart then when they were together. The past few months forced them to confront the problems in their relationship, and though they were still a long way from resolution, it was a start.

"I don't suppose you have booked a hotel room or somewhere private for us to talk, have you?" Quatre asked. When Trowa shook his head, he gave a cheerful smile. "That's easily solved. Come on, let's go."

They walked into the first hotel they saw, a rather swanky one, but Quatre could easily afford their rates. Quatre supposed the hotel was beautiful, but he really couldn't recall anything besides passing over one of his credit cards – one under a false name but linked to a sizable account – to book a room for the day, and then a long ride up in a mirrored elevator, and then another long walk down a heavily carpeted corridor before they finally reached their room. They walked slowly, the tension between them heavy.

Once in the room, they shucked off their shoes and slipped into the comfortable slippers provided. Quatre, in particular, was glad to be out of his heels. The room was not too lavish; though it was large, with two twin beds, two armchairs and a small kitchenette. The silence between them stretched, solemn and uncomfortable.

Sighing, Quatre took off his jacket, dropping it carelessly on one bed, while Trowa hung up his coat. The blond walked over to the window, admiring the view of the city for a while before drawing close the drapes. It was a habit, both as an ex-pilot and a well-known and rich businessman, to secure his surroundings. Meanwhile, Trowa paced around the room, checking for hidden cameras or bugs.

"How's the company?" Trowa asked, finally taking a seat on one of the two armchairs. It was a bit of an understatement to call a conglomerate such as Winner Inc. a mere company.

"Doing quite well actually. Between my sisters and the board of directors and all the managers… the company doesn't need me," Quatre said with a small laugh, moving to the other chair. He did not agree with his father's patricidal thinking, which led to 29 daughters that were mostly overlooked before Quatre's father finally obtained the male heir he wanted.

As such, as the head of the family and CEO of their company after the war, Quatre began implementing some changes. To the sisters who had indicated an interest in business, he handed over some sections to them. All of his sisters now had shares and stakes in the company, and he revamped the management hierarchy such that more responsibility was passed downwards along the management hierarchy. Quatre never felt terribly confident of being the only one making all of the important decisions for the company, and his changes resulted in a more robust company. With shared ownership and multiple points of responsibilities, workflow was actually smoother and mistakes and problems were caught earlier and solved.

"I was thinking… It's a good thing that I'm not needed at the company," Quatre continued softly.

"That's not true," Trowa protested.

Quatre shook his head. "No, I didn't mean it in a negative manner. I… I say it's a good thing because I never really was suited to be a CEO. And I was thinking, if I appoint Iria as CEO instead, since she practically knows everything anyway and since she actually enjoys bossing people around," Quatre chuckled, "I can do something else."

"Something else?"

Trowa's expression became tight, but Quatre didn't notice. He fiddled with the buttons on his blouse.

"You know, I was doing a lot of thinking in the past few months. We never did move on after the war, did we? Before the war, I always knew I would take over my family's company. But I am not the same person I was before the war…"

When Quatre trailed off, Trowa supposed it was his cue. "What would you rather do?"

The blond man was silent for a while, then he looked up. "I'm not sure, but at least I think I should give myself that option to find out. I just realized I'm not bound by my family's expectation, and if Iria's takes over the company, and since Father's not around to object, then I can do…" his voice became determined. "I can find out what I want to do."

"And what about me? Us?" Trowa looked at Quatre, catching his eye.

Quatre stared back. "What do you think?"

Trowa looked pained. "When you were gone… I did a lot of thinking as well. I… I'm seeing a therapist, mostly for anger management—"

Quatre jerked in surprise. "You did?"

A jerky nod. "Yeah. For a couple of months already."

Quatre was pleasantly shocked and speechless. He never would have thought that Trowa would even admit he had an anger problem, much less go for therapy.

The filtered air-conditioned air was sharp and cold, and the heavy furnishings in the room muffled sounds well. Across him, Trowa looked uncertain. To Quatre, the entire experience felt surreal; the dark green walls and dark woods of the furniture and now that the velveteen drapes were drawn, the room seemed to be closing in on them.

"The therapist said that it wasn't only anger. That the war also had left …negative effects." Trowa continued stiltedly. Quatre gave an encouraging nod. "He said I'm better now but it would take me time."

"That's good."

"…. What will you do next?"

"Une gave me a very good offer. You know I did this mission only on a part-time basis, mostly for fun… But I've realized I missed this. And I am pretty good at this stuff, better than I am as a CEO," Quatre said quietly. "I think I'll give the Preventers a try for a year. It'll be a full-time position."

Trowa looked frustrated. "Where would you be based? And—"

"I'm not sure. We haven't discussed in detail. Maybe L4, maybe not. Whatever the case is, I'm not going back to the manor. I'll probably give that to Iria. What about you?"

"I'll follow you, that is if you let me," Trowa said. A shadow flickered across his face. Cautiously, Quatre opened his space heart and felt Trowa's emotions, a rampant storm under his reserved exterior. What he read surprised him.

He had always known that Trowa loved him, but that love was dark and entangled with anger and envy and self-hatred; the ex-mercenary had a destructive self-image. Now, now it was different. Trowa felt… cleaner somehow. Brighter, and less conflicted. Satisfied, he sealed off his empathy again.

But Quatre had already come to a conclusion after the past few months. He probably knew the answer back then, once he had left L2 and 'ran away' with Duo, when all he could think about was Trowa while Duo was more excited about their vacation then anything else. And when he was at Wufei's place, the closeness between the Chinese ex-pilot and his husband made him long for something similar.

A smile curved his lips. "I'll let you."

"Duo!" Quatre was glad to see the American pilot on the phone. Reaching out, he pressed the privacy button on the dashboard beside the phone, a handy little thing that locks his office door electronically and forwards his incoming calls to his inbox until he turned off the privacy signal.

"How's life with the Preventers, Quat? Man, was I surprised when you sent me the update to your official email and phone numbers." Duo cocked his head.

Quatre's grin broadened. "Good. I love it."

Une had decided on some restructuring a while back, slowly building up a network of branch commanders who will have, eventually, autonomy over their own operations. Quatre had been a natural choice as head of the Preventers' Middle East branch, as was Wufei, who took over the Europe branch. Une happily semi-retired to the Preventers' main headquarters in Brussels.

Slipping into his new role as commander had been as easy as CEO of Winner Corp. The administrative skills helped, his wartime training came back easily, and he had the additional, less well-known advantage of his empathy. Quatre was really born and groomed to be a leader, not a ground fighter, and unlike the other pilots, he found himself relishing the particular challenges, and privileges, of leadership.

"You see the Wu-man often, I suppose?" Duo asked, idle curiosity rifle in his voice.

"You could call him once in a while to find out," Quatre said pointedly. "Seriously, he would love to hear from you."

Duo shrugged, looking uncomfortable as he fidgeted, twirling a pen and then placing it down with a snap and flicking at something else off-screen. Quatre often thought that Duo *might* be ever so slightly ADHD, not too badly of course. When needs must, he could concentrate with a laser-like intensity. But once the mission was over, all the restlessness bottled up seem to explode and he'd be bouncing off the walls.

"Well, we're not based in the same location but we do cooperate often. We are even partnered on the occasional mission," Quatre said casually. Wufei was based in Paris while he was based in the Middle East. The Middle East was a hotbed of restless activity and Une desperately needed a good agent to head their office there. She was so relieved when Quatre agreed to take up that position that she agreed to whatever terms Quatre had.

"I see you're settling in very well." Duo laughed, coarse and amused, as he examined the blond closely. "Shit man, I heard you're more powerful than the King there."

Perhaps his requests for resources had been a little extravagant. But in return, he did save her a bundle by moving his magunacs over to help him, and by rebuilding and outfitting the Preventers' office tower with the latest technology from Winner Corp.

Quatre shrugged. Duo's eyes turned shrewd, though outwardly he still looked relaxed. "You've changed, Quat. You ain't so mousy anymore."

"Mousy?" Quatre growled in mock outrage.

"You know what I mean." Duo waved a hand. "You were CEO of the biggest company on Earth—"

"One of the biggest," Quatre injected modestly.

Duo ignored him. "_And_ you were a gundam pilot. Yet you always had that bit of timid air around you. You could and did kick ass. But now, now you look like you _want_ to kick some serious ass."

"You are so honest," Quatre said dryly. "I think I simply looked more mature now."

Duo laughed, leaned forward. "I also heard you're back with Barton?"

"Actually, Trowa is back with me," Quatre replied mildly.

Duo's eyebrows rose a full inch at the semantics and he gave another coarse laugh. "Do tell."

Last he asked, Duo was working his own Sweeper ship off L2. The only thing he said about Heero was that it "wasn't working out. And I'm seeing other people. Not seriously, so don't ask." No further mention was made of Heero and Quatre did not pry.

"We decided to give our relationship another go. When I joined the Preventers last year, Trowa signed up as well, though on a part-time basis. Initially. He may switch to a full-time position in the future." Quatre gave a small smile, not really willing to divulge the personal details of his relationship with Trowa, even with Duo. "We're better now. Trowa's really making an effort and I find myself a lot calmer as well. I guess I was not completely blameless when our relationship failed."

"How so?"

Quatre hmmed thoughtfully. "Like I said, I'm calmer, not so worn out by the company. I stand up for myself more when I used to give way to Trowa all the time. I mean, I used to do it because I was tired and because of some misguided notion about 'leveling' our status differences," Quatre explained candidly. In the past, he would not have said it so baldly.

Duo nodded slowly. "You do seem more dominant now." A naughty grin tugged at his lips. "And are you?"

Quatre coughed, and gave a sly wink, which drew a surprised bark of laughter from the other man again. "Now Duo, would you kiss and tell?"

"I would!" Duo replied promptly, grinning madly.

Quatre rolled his eyes.

It was dark when they reached home, finally. It was a fairly easy mission but it was still a long flight from the colonies. Wufei put away their backpacks in the closet, where they would be unpacked the next day, while Trieze flipped through the mail, making sure there was nothing that required that immediate attention.

There had been changes in the Khushrenadra-Chang household as well, mostly on Treize's side. The number of novels he wrote now had fallen sharply, now that he had taken on some missions as another 'part-time consultant' for the Preventers. The changes took some getting used to, as changes often are. The most obvious changes — differences to their jobs, schedules — were actually the easiest to handle. The changes to their relationship; that was more tricky.

"Anything?" Wufei called out, as he bustled about in the kitchen. Frowning at the fridge, he decided that the expired milk has to go, but the slightly old eggs should be salvageable, if they eat it right now. "How about fried eggs?"

"Sounds fine." Trieze pulled out a heavy, creamy envelope. "And looks like we've been invited to Winner's New Year's party."

"As friends or colleagues?"

"This is for the Middle East branch Preventers' party…" Trieze found another heavy envelope, this time in a pale blue, edged with gold. "And there's another one here for an 'intimate gathering' at his house."

Wufei laughed. "That means there's only about fifty people invited."

Trieze chuckled as he carried the stack of sorted mail to the kitchen table. And by that he meant he had them in three stacks: important, not sure, and obvious junk. The latter he simply threw them into the recycling bin. "Do you need any help?"

Wufei shook his head, setting a dish onto the table.

Trieze raised an eyebrow. "That's a huge egg."

"Four eggs." Wufei shrugged. "Doesn't matter if we can't finish it, I would have thrown the remaining eggs away anyway." When Trieze continued to poke at the eggy pile, he said sternly, "Eat it."

Treize grunted and started eating.

The two men had a balance in their relationship before. Trieze was older, richer and tended to prefer pampering his husband. Wufei secretly enjoyed being looked after, and his pride allowed it because he had a challenging and well-paid career. When Trieze started work for the same place as he did, instantly commanding the same level of respect as he did, Wufei felt put-out initially.

However, years of sedentary living had dulled the ex-general's edge and Wufei quickly regained his humor when Une ordered Trieze to undergo a few 'refresher' courses. And then Wufei got his promotion to head the Europe branch. That eased the tension he felt, tension he would never tell his husband. It was silly to compare; he knew Trieze never wanted to undermine him, and all this comparison was just in his head. But it did make him feel better.

The Europe brance was the largest section, which effectively made him the second-highest ranking officer in the Preventers. He was initially overwhelmed with work but gradually he did manage to shunt a fair amount of work to trusted aides, and he was beginning to think that he was overlooking another valuable resource — his own husband. It smacks a little of nepotism but there have been no complaints so far about the ex-general's talents. With that in mind, Wufei had planned out more training for Trieze, as well as a few strategically important missions.

With Trieze coming home tired all the time from training, Wufei found himself taking over some of his husband's chores. There was an odd symmetry in the changes. Wufei wondered if perhaps he should try his hand at writing as well; he did imagine he would pursue a career in academia when he was much younger.

"What do you think about my, possibly, going back to school?" Wufei asked lightly as he read Quatre's invitation. "Oh, I'll call Quat tomorrow to RSVP. We've no other plans for New Years, right?"

Trieze looked immediately excited. "Really? That's great! About going back to school I meant."

"It was just a thought," Wufei said carelessly.

"It's a great idea," Trieze repeated. He had never been truly comfortable with his husband risking his life with the Preventers. Wufei pointed out that with his recent promotion, he was even more desk-bound than usual, but Trieze reasoned that as commander, he was even more of a target than before.

Wufei spied the sparkle in his husband's eyes and was beginning to regret having voiced that stray thought. He completely blamed the lapse on jet-lag. "No Trieze, I mean it. Leave it alone. Besides, I'm busier than ever."

"I think you'll look dashing in glasses and tweed. It will lend you a certain gravitas," Trieze announced. "And you'll just have to promote more aides. Delegate."

Wufei, recognizing his husband's obstinacy, groaned. He leaned forward, not-quite-pouting his lower lip. "Ann-oh. NO."

"Are you tired, my sweet?" Trieze asked hopefully, completely ignoring his husband's objection.

Wufei was momentarily distracted. "Surprisingly, not really. Why? And listen to me you annoying man."

The annoying man leered and leaning forward, slid a hand around the back of his husband's head to pull him in for a kiss. The same hand, with practiced ease, flicked off the rubber band at the tail end of Wufei's long braid. When Wufei pulled back from the kiss, eyes narrowed in irritation, Trieze said firmly, "Well, I'm not tired as well. Let's fuck."

"What? You have horrid timing," Wufei huffed. "It's 2 in the morning and I really need to take a shower and we really need to sleep." He stood up, intending to clear the plate.

Trieze wrapped his arms around the slighter man, nuzzling his neck. "Aww…"

Wufei trudged to the sink, resolutely ignoring his husband as Treize dragged along. Honestly. Trieze may be older but he could be annoyingly juvenile.

"So, sex?"

"No. I'm just going to shower and sleep."

"We can do it in the shower!"

"No. No, no, no. And hands off my ass."

"Going back to school is a great idea."

"Leave it."

"So, sex?"

"ARGH!"

The end


End file.
